Martha and Jonathan Chronicles
by phoenixnz
Summary: A series of oneshots chronicling the lives of Martha and Jonathan Kent from their first date to the show finale. Mentions of various situations from the show. Some incidents inspired by dialogue. First chapter is their first date.
1. First Date

Martha dressed carefully for the day, stopping to check her reflection in her bedroom mirror. Her red hair had been brushed until it shone and her jeans were neat and clean.

Her hands were shaking, yet she didn't think she should be nervous. It was just a date. Okay, so it was her first date with the cute boy from her finance class. Well, he wasn't a boy, since he was twenty, but oh boy, when she looked at him, she felt butterflies in her stomach. It was something a friend had told her once and she hadn't believed it until she'd seen the young man sitting by the fountain eating an apple.

As soon as all the girls in the class had caught sight of the tall blond from a small town in Kansas, they'd all practically swooned. Did girls really do that now? Martha thought with a frown. That, at least she figured, was something that happened to girls in the nineteenth century, not Metropolis, Kansas in 1981.

She remembered a discussion her mother had been having with a group of friends in her Book Club. They'd been talking about Gone With the Wind and the outlandish costumes the southern girls had been forced to wear. Huge crinoline dresses with tight bodices worn over corsets strapped so tight they probably cracked a rib if they tried to breathe. Which was why they swooned, apparently. The discussion had turned to underwear and how the fashions had changed and Martha had been so embarrassed by the discussion she had slunk away.

Even her father had just shaken his head when he realised what the discussion was. Parents were so embarrassing sometimes, Martha thought.

As she went downstairs, grabbing the keys of her mother's car, her father intercepted her.

"Going out?" he asked.

She nodded.

"With a boy?"

She frowned at him. She was old enough to date whoever she wanted and what business was it of his if she was going out with a boy from Smallville.

"Yes Daddy," she said, instead of sniffing and reminding him she was old enough to do what she wanted.

"Well, make sure you're back by ten," he told her. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She was an adult and he still made her follow a curfew.

Humming quietly to herself as she reversed the car out of the garage and drove along the tree-lined avenue, she found herself thinking about the handsome blond man and the day they'd met. Officially anyway.

There he was sitting by the fountain at Met U, in a red-checked flannel shirt and well-worn jeans nonchalantly eating an apple. She'd had no idea how to approach him, then happened to glance at his book bag. It was a canvas knapsack. Nothing too flashy. The kind she'd begged her mother to let her get when she'd started college, not wanting to appear pretentious. After all, she was the daughter of a lawyer and while they weren't as wealthy as the Luthors, they were still fairly well-off.

Martha approached the man.

"Hi, you're in Finance 301, right?" she said.

He looked up and smiled at her.

"Yes, yes I am."

She chewed nervously on her lip. Martha wasn't shy by any means, but this man completely took her breath away and made her forget the carefully prepared speech she'd just now made up.

"Uh, I was wondering. Could I borrow your notes?"

God, please don't let him find out I'm the notetaker for the class. I'd never hear the end of it from Josie.

He just smiled at her, then dug in his bag for his notebook, handing it over without a murmur. God, he was so cute, she thought with a tiny shiver.

"How do you know I'll bring them back?" she asked with a teasing little smile.

He just smiled. "I prefer to believe in people."

Martha felt the oddest feeling and the strangest thought popped into her brain.

"God, I hope he marries me," she murmured.

He frowned at her. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, just having one of those days."

"I know all about those," he smiled. "I'm Jonathan."

"Martha."

"Would you like to join me, Martha?" he said, clearly appreciating what he saw.

"Yes," she said with a laugh. "Yes I would."

XXXXX

Jonathan was just about to head out the door when his father called him back.

"Son, make sure you get those fences down in the south pasture."

"Daaad!" he whined.

"Jonathan, this is a farm and we all work around here."

"But …"

He had a date. His first date. With the most beautiful girl on the Met U campus. Not that his father cared about that. Probably.

"Dad, I'll do my chores later," he told his father.

Hiram sighed and shrugged. "Just make sure you get them done," he said.

There were times when Jonathan wished he'd taken the scholarship to Met U when he'd had the chance, but his father had needed him on the farm and he'd let duty guide him.

It wasn't that he didn't like farming. It was in his blood, so to speak, but he had always thought his life was more than the farm.

Still, Martha didn't seem to mind. Unlike some girls, he thought, who could be snobs when it came to finding out what he did for a living. Or where he came from.

He found himself thinking about the beautiful redhead. He'd noticed her in the finance class he'd gone to. How could he not? With her striking auburn locks and her high cheekbones, she had a face that would have graced the covers of any fashion magazine.

Knowing he had to appease his father to at least a small extent, Jonathan did some of his chores before returning to the house to shower. He didn't want to screw this up. Martha was the first girl he'd liked since he'd dated Nell Potter in high school and while Nell was used to the farm boys, Martha was a city girl, Metropolis born and bred. Not that she seemed to mind the down home country boy look he had.

Someone had once commented that he looked a lot like one of the boys on that tv show that his dad didn't know he watched sometimes with Ethan and Jack. Hiram probably figured he'd get himself into trouble with the law like those two good ol' boys.

He found himself humming the theme song as he dressed in front of the mirror in his bedroom.

Just the good ol' boys  
Never meanin' no harm

"What's that you're humming to, Jonathan?" his mom said, pausing in the doorway of his bedroom with an armful of laundry.

"Um, nothing Mom," he said, reddening at being caught out.

"Uh huh. Sounds kinda familiar to me. You know your dad doesn't like that show."

"Don't see no harm in it," he said.

"Well, maybe so, but just be sure you only watch it at Ethan's or Jack's," she said, with a knowing smile. She looked him over. Jonathan had decided to wear a blue denim shirt and his best blue jeans. "You're looking very handsome today, sweetheart. Got big plans?"

"Uh, yeah, Mom. I have a date."

"Not with Nell?" she asked, frowning. Jonathan got the impression she didn't really like Nell, but then his mother was kind of particular about the girls Jonathan dated. She never said anything, but Jonathan had heard that Nell had been seeing other guys while they were going together. Not that Nell was a tease or anything, but she still had a reputation which his mother didn't like.

"So is she nice?" Jessica asked.

"Beautiful Mom. She's really beautiful, and sweet. Her dad's a lawyer in the city."

His mother raised an eyebrow. "A city girl?"

He got the feeling she thought Martha might be a snob.

"She's not like that Mom. She's not like that at all. The day we met, we just talked for hours. I felt like I could tell her anything."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a good time. Your father and I have to go to the city for some parts for the tractor. We thought we might make a night of it. Make sure you …"

"Do my chores. I know Mom."

She smiled. "You're a good boy, Jonathan. This girl must be someone very special if she's already putting a smile on your face."

He blushed. "Thanks Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, honey." She heaved the pile of laundry in her arms and carried on downstairs.

Jonathan finished dressing, checking his reflection once more.

"Looking good, Mr Kent," he said, drawing the last word out in an urban drawl, the way a character did on a sitcom he'd been watching.

By the time he was ready, his parents were getting ready for their trip to the city.

"Drive carefully, Dad," Jonathan said.

"Have fun on your date, but don't go trying to impress this girl with your shenanigans like you got up to with young Jack. Don't think I don't know about that little trip to Chickasaw County."

"Daaad!" Jonathan whined and his father laughed.

"Let me give you a piece of advice, son. Girls … sorry," he added with a look at Jessica, "women like to be treated nice but you don't need to go showing off for them. If this one's special, she won't care how you look or what you do. She'll like you for yourself, not because you go preening and …" He sniffed, wrinkling his nose a little, then went on. "Go putting on a whole bottle of cologne."

Jonathan sniffed, realising his father was right. Rather than the subtle scent of pine, he smelled like he'd bathed in it.

"I'll go wash it off," he said.

"Have a good time, son."

XXXXX

Martha was feeling even more nervous by the time she found the gate to the Kent farm. She'd almost gotten lost a few times on the way and had had to ask a couple of locals. One girl shot her an odd look, almost like disdain when she realised Martha was an outsider.

Jonathan was on the porch, clearly feeling anxious as he looked up as soon as he heard the car. Martha stopped just beside the old truck in the driveway and got out.

"Martha," he grinned. "You're late."

"I know. I got a little lost."

He came down the steps and hugged her, then realised that probably wasn't the most appropriate thing to do as he stepped back. Martha sighed softly at that brief contact, loving the warmth of his arms, feeling the strength in those muscles. Jonathan was almost a foot taller than her and she seemed to fit neatly in the circle of his arms.

"Um, so I thought you might like to take a drive, see Smallville. Probably best we not do it in that car of yours. The roads can be a little rough around here."

She nodded. That sounded like a good idea, but she had planned some of this date herself.

"Actually, I had an idea," she said, going to the car and picking up a basket from the back. "I thought we could have a picnic. It's such a beautiful day."

He grinned that boyish grin that had attracted her from the start.

"That sounds wonderful, Martha. I know just the place."

She waited as he went inside to grab the keys to his truck and came back out again, the keys jangling in his hand. He held open the door to the passenger side of the truck and waited, taking the basket from her and putting it in the back. Martha laughed as he ushered her in the truck with a flourish then ran around to the driver's side.

She watched as he turned the key in the ignition, to be met with a 'clunk' as the engine refused to turn over. He tried again and the same sound greeted him. Martha could see him reddening, clearly thinking this was not making the greatest impression for their first date.

Jonathan got out and opened the hood, peering into the engine.

Twenty minutes later he was still tinkering, his hands were dirty and he had a grease mark on his forehead as well as a matching one on his shirt. He looked so embarrassed and she couldn't help laughing.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why it's not working," he said.

She wanted to offer to take the car instead, but didn't. After all, Jonathan had asked her on this date and he clearly had wanted to take care of everything. Besides, she thought, if the roads were really that rough, her mother would kill her if she damaged the car.

So Martha suggested they have their picnic in the barn. Jonathan got a rug from the house and they sat on the floor, surrounded by bales of hay and the smell of animals as they ate the food she'd so carefully prepared, talking and laughing.

It was the best first date either of them had ever had.


	2. The Fight

**NB: Events in this take place a little later than in the series.**

XXXXX

Martha was getting ready for her date with Jonathan when her mother called up the stairs.

"Martha? Jonathan's here."

She gasped. He was early. Way too early. She quickly finished her make-up, adding a dash of lipstick, knowing it wasn't enough but it would have to do. Jonathan had told her she looked gorgeous without make-up and she believed him.  
Martha wasn't as confident as she let people believe. When she'd been in her early teens, she had been bullied in high school. Mostly for her red hair. Teenagers could be so shallow, she sighed.

There had been one girl whose parents had been deeply religious. They were Catholic, and devout with it. So devout in fact that the girl had come up to her one day and told her that red hair was the sign of the devil.

Martha had refused to let the taunts bother her, on the surface at least. She certainly didn't go to her father and tell him she was being teased for her red hair, knowing he would just tell her to ignore it.

Whoever said: 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me' was never called any horrible names, like Ginger, or Devil Child, Martha thought.

Jonathan, however, never treated her like that. When they'd first started dating, he'd commented about the way her hair gleamed like a sunset. He loved to run his fingers through it as they curled up together, on the couch at the farm, or in the truck as they watched the sunset off Make-out Point. It wasn't really called that, of course, but the local teenagers did tend to hang out there.

Martha made sure her hair gleamed and was neatly brushed, then straightened her blouse before leaving the bedroom. Jonathan was talking to her mother in the kitchen. He lifted his head when she came in and smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Something was wrong, she thought.

He clearly didn't want Mary to know anything was wrong, but Martha could see he was upset. He had a pinched look to his face and sadness in his eyes. She took his hand and squeezed it, letting him know that she understood.

"Now don't have her out too late, Jonathan," Mary was saying. "You know her father worries."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Martha rolled her eyes behind her mother's back and Jonathan snickered.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady," Mary admonished. Martha raised her eyebrows and made a face at Jonathan.

"It's a gift," he said, correctly interpreting her thoughts. "My mom's the same."

"And that's quite enough cheek from you, young man," her mother laughed, pretending to cuff him. "Have fun you two."

Martha giggled as they left the house.

"You'd think we were five instead of grown adults," she laughed.

"Yeah, my mom says I'll always be her baby, no matter how old I get."

"I love your mom," Martha replied as Jonathan held the door of the truck open for her so she could climb in.

She'd had dinner with Jonathan and his parents a couple of weeks ago. Hiram Kent had asked her all sorts of questions about life in the city and her father's job as a lawyer. She had the impression he didn't like the city much and thought people in the city looked down on those in the country. Martha knew people like that, but she wasn't one of them.

She liked Jessica, but Hiram was a lot like her father. Kind of gruff and a little closed off.

Jonathan was quiet as he drove through the streets. He knew she'd noticed he was upset, but he didn't want to talk about it. Not just yet.

He'd had a fight with his dad. It had been a real doozy as well. Hiram was a stubborn man and Jonathan was constantly reminded of that stubbornness. His mother often said he was just as stubborn and pig-headed as his father.  
It had started a couple of weeks ago, after Martha had come to have dinner with his folks. His father had come out to the barn where Jonathan had been doing the last of his chores for the night.

"Martha seems like a well put-together young lady," Hiram said.

"She is," Jonathan confirmed.

"I must say, though, I have to wonder why she comes here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's a city girl."

"So?"

He knew Martha didn't care about the so-called divide between city people and country people.

"Well, she would find it rather isolating here, don't you think?"

"That's her decision to make. And we care about each other."

"I don't think you should see her anymore, son."

Jonathan frowned at his father.

"What? Why?"

"Because she doesn't belong here."

Jonathan studied his father for a long moment. He suddenly knew what this was about.

"You're afraid," he said.

"Pardon?"

"You're afraid that I'm gonna go running off to the city to be with Martha and leave the farm. That's it, isn't it?"

"Why on Earth would you think I'd have such a ridiculous idea as that?"

"Because it's true. I gave up a chance at a scholarship, playing with the Metropolis Sharks, just to stay here."

"The farm needed you."

Jonathan huffed. "It's always about the farm. What about what I want, Dad? You know, for the first time, ever since I met Martha, I'm actually happy. Why can't you let me have what I want?"

"Because Martha doesn't belong here. She belongs in that there city, not down with the common folk like us."

"You and her father should get together," Jonathan muttered. "He doesn't think I'm good enough for his daughter either."

"I never said you were not good enough for her."

"That's what you're implying," Jonathan said angrily, turning his back on his father.

He'd refused to talk to his father ever since. Hiram had tried again tonight to talk but Jonathan didn't want anything to do with it. His mother had tried to get them to talk to each other but again Jonathan refused, knowing it would just cause another argument.

It was true that he'd given up a chance at college to stay on the farm. His father needed him. Sure, sometimes he resented it, but it had been his choice and he had made it on his own.

He and his father had always had their battles. The worst had been when Jonathan had gone and bought a motorcycle, which his father had strenuously objected to, talking about how unsafe they were. His father had been in his late thirties when Jonathan was born and set in his ways.

Jonathan swore when he had a son he would never force his kid to stay on the farm if they wanted to do something else.

"Jonathan?" Martha asked as they sat together at the lookout. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her, reaching for her hand across the seat of the truck. He squeezed it gently.

"I had a fight with my dad."

"What was it about?"

"It doesn't matter. I just … "

He bit his lip. Ever since the fight he couldn't help but wonder. What was she doing with him? They were from two different worlds. How could they ever make this work?

"I think he was afraid that I would just leave the farm and not come back."

"But Smallville's your home," Martha said quietly.

"So are you," he replied. It was as close as he could come to telling her how he felt about her. He'd loved her from the moment he set eyes on her, remembering the way her hair seemed to create a glow around her. Like a halo. Almost angelic.

She was so beautiful. He was just a farm kid from the sticks. How could he ever compete with these big city guys who were so much more sophisticated than he was?

"Jonathan, what is this really all about?"

"He wants me to stop seeing you."

"That's not going to happen," she smiled.

"Why? I mean, Martha, you could do so much better than me."

"I don't want anyone else," she told him. "I just want you."

"Why?" he asked again.

"Because I like the way I feel when I'm with you. Jonathan, it doesn't matter what your father thinks. Or what my father thinks. They can't tell us how to live our lives."

He nodded. She was right. No one could tell them how to feel or how to live. Ultimately it was their choice.

Comforted by her loving presence, Jonathan sat, his arm around her as they watched the sunset. Later they would go to an inexpensive restaurant for dinner, but for now he just wanted to enjoy her company.

It wasn't too late by the time he took her home. Mary answered the door, looking pale and worried.

"There you are. Your father's been out looking for you."

Martha frowned at her mother. "Why? I'm not past curfew."

"Jonathan's mother called here, looking for him." Her eyes filled with tears. Jonathan frowned at her.

"What's wrong?"

"Your father passed away this evening," she said, sounding as if she was going to cry. "He had a heart attack and collapsed on the farm. They couldn't revive him."

Jonathan looked at Martha, who immediately wrapped him in a loving embrace.

The funeral was horrible. Martha held his hand through the entire service. His mother cried. All he could think about was that the last words he and his father had exchanged had been in anger. Guilt sat like a ball of lead in his stomach.

"He knew you loved him," Jessica told him as they returned to the farm.

"I'm sorry Mom," he said, hugging her. "I'm so sorry."

"Jonathan, your father was stubborn. You get that from him. This is not your fault. He was told to slow down but he would never listen. This is not because of you, you hear me?"

He heard her, but the guilt still tore him up anyway.


	3. Break-up

Jonathan had taken her out for dinner. They'd just celebrated their one-year anniversary and he'd saved up for something special. He'd even dressed up in a suit he usually only wore for Sunday best but Martha loved him for it.

She hadn't expected him to take her to a fancy restaurant. The waiter spoke French, which Jonathan didn't understand. He could feel himself reddening as he became more and more embarrassed. Martha had studied a little French, she'd told him. Had even begged her father to have a year abroad before college, but he had never let her go.

Jonathan was out of his depth in the restaurant. He was used to diners and the college cafeteria, not restaurants where the chef had studied at the Cordon Bleu. Yet he had wanted to do something which he thought would impress her.

Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least.

When he finally took her home, she kissed him goodnight as she normally did, but he couldn't help thinking that he had failed a test in some way. What was he doing, he thought as he drove back to Smallville. He was trying to impress a girl he never really had a hope of impressing.

He remembered something his father had said. Martha was a city girl. She belonged with people of class and breeding, not a country hick.

Not for the first time he wished he had stayed in Metropolis instead of sacrificing his own dreams for the farm. He tried not to resent his father for needing him, because he had loved Hiram. He still remembered when he was a kid his father taking him out on fishing trips. Just the guys, Dad had said. They'd put up with gnats and mosquitoes and sometimes come home with nothing to show for it, but catching fish wasn't really the point of fishing, his father had told him. It was really about the two of them spending time together.

One day he hoped to have a son of his own who he could take out fishing. He still swore black and blue that he was never going to make his son sacrifice his own dreams. Sure, the farm had been in the family for three generations, but he would never force his children to stay. Not if it wasn't what they wanted.

He hadn't talked about having a family with Martha but he really couldn't see anyone else in his future. Still, why did he get the feeling that she wasn't happy? He'd tried everything he could to fit in to her world. To show her that he wasn't just some country hick.

It kept plaguing him, until one day, finally, he couldn't keep his fears in any longer, blurting that he wondered what she saw in him, since he wasn't good enough for her.

Martha stared at him in surprise and from what he could tell, more than a little anger.

"How can you say that?" she said.

"Well, it's true isn't it? You're better off with some guy who plans on being a lawyer than with me. I'll never fit in to your world."

"What makes you think I want you to fit into my world?"

"It's not like you'll ever fit in to mine!" he said, regretting the words as soon as he spoke them. He hadn't meant that. He hadn't!

"Jonathan Kent! Do you really see me as being that shallow?" she accused.

He reddened. "No, I … I just … I don't know what I was trying to say."

"Well, maybe we should stop seeing each other."

"You want to break up?" he asked, stunned.

"If you think I could ever be the kind of person who would look down my nose at you for being a farmer then maybe we should."

In tears, she got out of the truck and ran into her father's house. Jonathan wanted to go after her but realised he would probably make matters worse.

When he got home, his mother was in the kitchen, making herself some hot cocoa.

"Hi sweetie. I figured you'd be much later than this." She turned and saw his face. "Jonathan? What happened?"

"She broke up with me," he said miserably.

"Why?" She poured another cup of cocoa for him and sat him down at the table. It was heavy, constructed from oak. His father had told him the wood had come from an old oak tree which had grown on the property, but Jonathan hadn't been sure what to believe. His father had always been telling stories.

"We had a huge fight. I made a mess of things, Mom. She thinks I don't think she could ever fit in here."

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean it like that, Mom. I … I love her. I just don't think I'll ever be good enough for her."

Jessica Kent looked sympathetically at her son.

"Jonathan, I may not know Martha very well, but if there is one thing I do know, it's how happy you've been since you've been dating her. She is one very special young woman to put a smile on that face."

He sighed. "How do I … I mean, what if she never wants to see me again?"

"If she loves you, she will. I promise. Just give yourself some time."

XXXXX

Martha cried in her mother's arms.

"I don't even know why he …"

"Sweetie, maybe he isn't the boy for you."

"He's not a boy, Mom," she protested. "And what do you mean he isn't the boy for me? I don't care that he's a farmer's son. There's nothing wrong with that."

"But your father …"

"My father wants me to become a lawyer and join the firm. I'm tired of him trying to decide my life for me."

"He just wants what's best for you. And if this boy, sorry young man, thinks he's not good enough for you, well, perhaps he might not be."

Martha huffed and shook her head. Her mother didn't understand, but then she came from a generation which didn't really question things. Mary did what her mother did, which was marry a man who her father approved of, while she stayed home and looked after the house.

Sure, her father was at least not so conservative in that he didn't think she should settle down with a good man, have babies and being 'domestic'. At least he wanted a career for her, but Martha had never really wanted to be a lawyer.

Her father was, of course, pleased that she'd broken up with Jonathan. He didn't think a farmer was good enough for her. It was one of the few things they fought about.

She remembered when she was a little girl, when her father wasn't working he spent time with her, reading to her, helping her with her maths homework. They'd been so close when she was a child. She wished she could be that close to him again.

The weeks passed and Jonathan didn't call. Martha would pick up the phone and start to dial his number before she put the phone down again, thinking after that fight she wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to see her again. She'd been rather harsh with him.

She tried to move on. Even accepted a date with another student at Met U. He took her out to the same French restaurant that had pretty much caused the blow-up with Jonathan. Her date spoke French and was attentive. He also talked far too much about his parents. His mother was an accountant and his father was a lawyer with a corporate firm. He would fit neatly into her world.

She was bored out of her mind.

Jonathan talked about football, which she barely tolerated, and farming futures and she would listen eagerly. He talked about television shows he watched and books he read and she was enchanted. Jonathan might not be the most worldly person, but he more than made up for it in passion and charm and sweetness. He would listen when she talked, hold her hand and make her feel like they were the only people in the world.

God, she missed him.

She didn't know what made her go to the fair in Granville but a couple of girls in her class had invited her and she didn't have anything better to do.

The trio walked around the stalls and tried out some of the games. It was as Martha was standing in line for cotton candy that she felt it. Like something had shifted in the air. She turned around and there he was with a brunette. She was clinging to him like she was afraid he would run away, but he seemed to be trying to anyway.

Their eyes met and locked. He looked the same as she felt. The longing was in his eyes. He missed her as much as she missed him.

Martha couldn't hold back the tears. She stepped out of the line and began walking away, not wanting him to see her cry. She heard the brunette call his name but kept on going.

Just when she thought she could run and hide, he caught her arm.

"Martha …"

She turned and looked up at him, tears streaking her face. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

"Martha, I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Jonathan, I love you too."

He pulled her into a secluded spot and pulled a clean, folded and neatly pressed handkerchief from his pocket, unfolding it to dry her tears. He kissed her gently.

"Martha, I … about our fight …"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said.

"I tried," he said. "I would pick up the phone to call you and put it down again. I wrote about a hundred letters that I never sent. Martha …"

"Me too," she said. "I tried to forget you, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about you. What you were doing. I'd look at the sunrise and think about you out in the fields, taking in the cows for milking."

"Martha, I know I'm an idiot for what I said. I don't think you're shallow. I just …"

She shushed him and kissed him.

"None of that matters now."

"Martha, there's a dance in Granville tonight. I know it's just some kind of country thing, but …"

"I'd love to go with you," she said.

Arm in arm they walked off, back together. Maybe they would still have issues, Martha thought, but as long as they were honest with each other, nothing could tear them apart again.


	4. Proposal

The Proposal

Jonathan was so nervous as he waited in the outer office of William Clark's law offices. Lawyers usually made him nervous. He still remembered the lawyer who had handled his father's will and that had been a daunting task as it was.

This was different. This was Martha's father, and his reason for coming here had nothing to do with the law.

Jonathan had been brought up to be a gentleman and to be respectful to his elders, even when they didn't return the same courtesy. William had been cool towards Jonathan from the moment he had learned that Jonathan was a farmer's son. As if it was somehow beneath his only daughter.

Jonathan didn't care. He loved Martha and she loved him. Those few weeks they'd been apart had been the longest of his life and he had realised that nothing mattered except how they felt about each other. Not her parents or their opinion of him. Well, Mary was all right, except she was very much a traditionalist who bowed to her husband's wishes. On most things at least.

Jonathan didn't agree with that. His parents had worked together on the farm, but they hadn't always agreed on everything. Jessica could be just as stubborn as his father when she knew she was right about something.

"Mr Kent?"

He looked up and smiled nervously at the receptionist. She showed him into William's office.

The older man was standing at the window, looking out at the city. The law offices were on the fifth floor of a ten-storey building and surrounded by other buildings, but William obviously had the best view as he could look out clear across the river.

William glanced at him, his expression neutral.

"Uh, hello, sir," Jonathan said politely.

"Mr Kent," the older man said coolly.

"I came to ask you, sir …"

"I know why you're here. And I'm not about to let my daughter throw her life away to marry some hick farmer that couldn't possibly support her."

"Sir … Mr Clark, I know what you think, but …"

"What I think is my daughter has a future, and it is not in Smallville."

"I love your daughter."

"And that makes it all right?" William asked, raising his eyebrow. "I don't care. My daughter will be going to law school."

Jonathan chewed his bottom lip, studying the older man. Now he understood what his mother meant when she said it was so frustrating dealing with stubbornness.

"Sir, Martha and I love each other. Besides, she doesn't want to be a lawyer. She told me."

"Be that as it may, she's my daughter and what I say …"

"My God, do you even hear yourself? She's a grown woman who can make up her own mind."

Martha had once remarked that at least her father wasn't one of those men who thought she should just marry a doctor or a lawyer and not have a career of her own. Jonathan got the impression that William didn't mind her having a career, as long as it was what he wanted for her and not what she wanted.

"You know, my dad taught me to respect my elders, but with all due respect, Mr Clark, you're wrong. You can't dictate to Martha what she does with her life. She's an adult, with a mind of her own, and I'm going to marry her. I love her, and she loves me. Maybe I am a farmer, but it's a good, honest living. Something I can't exactly say for some lawyers."

William's gaze was like ice as he glared at Jonathan.

"I hope you're not insinuating what I think you are, boy!"

If there was one thing Jonathan disliked, it was being called 'boy'. He was twenty-one years old!

The older man looked furious as Jonathan again told him he had no say in the matter. The only reason he'd come down to the office to ask for his blessing was because that was what he'd been taught. Maybe it was old—fashioned, and maybe it was just his mid-western upbringing, but it had felt right. He didn't really need the old man's blessing. It wasn't like William could stop them getting married.

He was surprised when the older man shoved him, trying to push him out of the office. He saw red and lashed out, smacking the man's jaw.

His eyes widened as he realised what he'd done.

"Oh, God. Sir, I … I'm so sorry, I didn't mean …"

"Get out!" the man hissed. "And don't ever come back."

Martha was preparing for a dinner date with Jonathan. She had applied her make-up carefully. Jonathan always said that she didn't need a lot of make-up as she was beautiful with or without it, but she wanted to look special for him. She had a feeling that tonight was the night he would ask her to marry him.

They'd talked about it, of course, but the formal proposal hadn't been made yet.

Her bedroom door opened as she was checking out her reflection. She'd chosen to wear a long black sleeveless dress which suited her pale skin and red hair, which she'd softly curled.

"Martha, you look beautiful," her mother said. "Big date tonight?"

"I really think Jonathan's going to propose tonight."

Her mother smiled. "I'm glad. He's such a nice young man, and you both look so happy together."

"Dad doesn't think so," Martha said with a touch of bitterness. She'd heard all about the incident in her father's office. Jonathan had called her the day it had happened and gave his side of the story. She knew he hadn't meant to hit her father, but while she wasn't happy about it, she knew what her father was like.

"Sweetheart, I know I don't always speak up, especially when it comes to your father, but in this case, he's wrong. Jonathan is a good, honest, and hard-working young man and that should be enough for him. Besides, who says you can't have both a career and a family if you really want?"

Martha frowned at her mother, who grinned at her.

"Your mom isn't so old-fashioned she doesn't keep up with things. Young women are able to have both. Just because I chose to be a stay-at-home mom over a career doesn't mean you should follow in my footsteps."

Martha wrapped her arms around her mother.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, honey. Now, I imagine that young man of yours will be downstairs any minute. As for your father, you let me handle him."

She cocked an eyebrow at her mother, who laughed.

"Don't you worry. I have my ways."

Martha made her way downstairs, just in time as the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find her boyfriend standing there with a bouquet of red roses in his hands and looking so handsome in a dark navy suit jacket and tie, his shirt crisp and his trousers neatly pressed. He stared at her.

"Wow! Martha, you … God, you're beautiful."

She grinned at him and kissed his cheek as she took the flowers.

"Well, you look very handsome." She turned to go to the kitchen. "I'll just put these in water."

Her mother took the flowers from her. "I'll take care of that. You two go and enjoy yourselves. And Jonathan …"

"I know," he grinned. "Have her back by ten."

"That wasn't what I was going to say," her mother laughed. "Take as much time as you need," she added with a wink at him.

Martha glanced from her mother to her boyfriend, wondering if there was some kind of conspiring going on between them.

Jonathan took her to a restaurant which was slightly more expensive than the normal restaurant they went to, ordering wine for them both. He looked a little nervous, but still far more at ease in this restaurant than in the French restaurant he'd taken her to once before.

She was sure dinner was delicious but she couldn't remember eating a single bite. Jonathan kept shooting her glances and she knew something was up.

The dishes were cleared away but Jonathan still sat there. She could see him checking something in his jacket pocket. He cleared his throat, his hand still in his jacket. Then he got out of his seat and walked around to her side of the table, getting down on one knee.

"Martha, I love you. I think I loved you the moment I first saw you. I'm not articulate and I know I'm not worldly. Maybe we'll never be rich, or travel the world, but the one thing that will never change is the way I feel about you. I will always love you."

For a man who wasn't articulate, that was the most beautiful speech she had ever heard.

He took a box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside, she saw what appeared to be an antique diamond ring. It looked like one his mother had worn. He took a deep breath as he looked imploringly up at her.

Martha heard the murmurs from other diners and knew they were watching.

"Martha, will you marry me?"

She didn't hesitate. "Yes," she said simply.

Jonathan's face lit up in a huge smile. He took the ring from its box and slowly slid it on her finger. She kissed him. They sat there, lost in each other's gazes, unaware of someone standing beside them until he politely cleared his throat.

The man beamed at them. "Hello, I'm Mr Davis, the manager. We would like to offer you both our congratulations and some champagne to toast your engagement. On the house, of course."

"Sweetheart?" Jonathan said, and it was the most wonderful word she could ever hear from her husband-to-be. She loved the way he immediately asked her what she wanted.

"I think I'd like that very much," she said.


	5. Wedding Day

Wedding Day

Martha wished her father hadn't been so stubborn. His refusal to even be there for her wedding day had hurt deeply. She knew he didn't support her marriage to Jonathan, but she loved her farmboy and that wasn't going to change.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The dress she'd chosen for the ceremony was white lace and satin with a strapless bodice and layers of tulle over the simple satin skirt. She had decided not to wear gloves, but couldn't decide whether she should wear the pearl necklace her mother had given her for her twenty-first birthday.

"Are you nervous, sweetheart?" her mother asked.

"A little," she said. "I wish Dad would come."

Mary looked saddened. "I know, sweetie. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't even listen to me."

"He thinks I'm throwing my life away," Martha said, her tone touched with bitterness.

Her mother sighed. "You and your father are a lot alike," she said. "Unfortunately that means you tend to clash swords more often than not. You know he just wants the best for you."

"But I'm old enough to decide what's best for me," she argued. "He just thinks he knows better."

"Darling, I know this is hard. You love your father and it hurts that he won't support you. But if you want my opinion, I think you're doing the right thing. You love Jonathan and he loves you. I can see it in the way he looks at you. The way his face lights up when he sees you. That is the look of a man in love."

"Was Dad ever … did he ever …"

Her mother looked away. Martha frowned at her. She had never really seen her father treat her mother with affection, the way Jonathan did with her. She supposed it was because her mother came from a completely different generation that saw love differently.

"Knock knock," came a voice, and Jessica Kent entered. She paused in the doorway. "Oh my, Martha, don't you look lovely."

"Mm, yes she does," Mary replied. "Darling, I'm just going to check that everything's all right outside." She winked at Jessica. "Leave you two to talk."

Martha watched her mother leave, laughing. Her mother was a funny one sometimes. When she was a child, her mother had often played with her and teased her. William would be left shaking his head at the way they giggled and carried on, but it was their way.

She looked at Jessica, who smiled at her.

"You know, when Jonathan began talking about you, I have to admit I had my doubts. I did think with you being a city girl that our life might not suit you. I'm happy to say that I was wrong. I love my son, Martha. He's my only child and I suppose that's made me a little particular when it comes to the young women he's dated."

"Mrs Kent …"

Jessica shushed her. "Jessica. Or Mom. After all, I'm going to be your mother-in-law. Or perhaps that should be Monster-in-law," she added with a wink. Martha giggled.

"Anyway, I have something for you," Jessica said. "A little wedding gift. Just for you."

Martha looked at the little box, wondering what was in it. She opened it and saw it was a beautiful antique locket.

"Oh," she said.

There had been times over the past few months when she had wondered if she could ever measure up to Jessica, who had been Jonathan's only real female influence his entire life. Jessica clearly sensed that as she smiled.

"I know you worry that you'll never be what he needs, that you won't measure up. Let me tell you something Martha Clark. You will be more than that. I'm his mother but you … He's been so happy since he met you, and to me that's a sure sign that you belong with him.

"Jonathan can be broody sometimes. He gets that from his father. And I admit I do worry about him sometimes. But I can worry less, now that I know he has you."

Martha wrapped her arms around the older woman and hugged her.

"Thank you," she said. Jonathan's mother helped her put the necklace on and she looked at her reflection. It was perfect.

Jessica left for the church after giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. They'd decided to get married in the Smallville chapel, which was small, but big enough for the amount of people they'd invited.

Her mother had booked them a room at the Smallville Inn, since it was only a few minutes' drive from the chapel.

Martha once more checked her reflection. Her mother came in.

"Sweetie, we need to get going. We're late."

Martha gasped.

"Oh my goodness," she said. "Jonathan's probably thinking I'm going to stand him up."

"Don't worry, honey, I did the same thing when I married your father. Your grandmother once told me he nearly tore out the door wanting to come and get me."

Somehow Martha couldn't imagine her father doing something like that. Still, it was a funny image and she laughed.

Her mother helped her with the veil, which was also tulle, inserting the comb into her red hair, which she'd left down, and arranged it over her face.

"Let's go, Mom," Martha said.

Her mother hugged her. "You look beautiful darling. I know you and Jonathan are both going to be very happy together."

"I love you Mom."

"I love you too. Now, let's get going."

XXXXX

Jonathan fidgeted and glanced at his watch. It was one his father had given him when he'd graduated high school.

"She's late," he said.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder.

"She'll be here. Not all of us are trained by roosters, you know."

Jonathan snorted at his best friend.

"Oh, you're funny!"

Ethan laughed at both of them. "You're both nuts," he said.

Ethan Miller had just recently made deputy in the sheriff's department. As the rookie, he was expected to cover the worst shifts, but he'd managed to get today off to be there for his friend's wedding day.

They'd gone to the Wild Coyote the night before, for Jonathan's last night of freedom, although Jonathan had been careful not to get drunk. Martha would have killed him, he thought with a grin.

His mother came back in. She'd gone to the Inn to see Martha, but hadn't explained why. She smiled at him and straightened his tie.

"You look so handsome," she said. "All you boys do."

"Aw shucks," Jack said, then grinned. He liked to pretend he was a down-home country boy but Jonathan had to remember that this was the guy who had been caught with the sheriff's daughter. Both of them.

"Was everything okay when you saw Martha?" Jonathan asked his mother anxiously.

"Everything was fine, sweetie. She'll be here. She loves you."

The reverend had gone into his office, but came back out again, smiling.

"Mrs Clark just called and said they'll be here in a few minutes."

Jonathan smiled back, relieved. His mother nudged him.

"See, I told you."

It was still a nervous wait until the music began and the door opened. Martha's mother began walking down the aisle. Behind her were two of Martha's closest friends from college. And there was Martha, looking so beautiful in white. Jonathan watched, his eyes on his bride. Her own gaze was locked on him and she had a brilliant smile.

How did I get so lucky? he thought.

She took his hand as she reached the altar and together they turned to the reverend.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of God to witness the joining of this man and this woman in holy matrimony."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house.


	6. Period of Adjustment

Period of Adjustment

As much as she loved and adored her new husband, Martha found it difficult adjusting to her new life. She'd gone from life in Metropolis, the possibility of law school, to life in a small town where she knew very few people.

She had begun to wonder whether love would be enough; had she made a big mistake giving up the city to live as a farmer's wife? Especially in such isolation?

"This was your decision, Martha," her father told her over the phone. Jonathan was out with his mother buying feed supplies for the animals, so she was alone in the house.

William clearly didn't understand her dilemma. Of course he wouldn't, Martha thought. He thought she should never have married Jonathan in the first place.

She rang off, twisting the wedding band around her finger as she turned back to her baking. It was at least the one thing she could do well, even if he was messing everything else up. Let's face it, she thought as she began rolling out pie crust. Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a farmer's wife.

As the pie went into the oven, she heard the truck pull up and went out to greet her husband. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, brushing the hair back from her face.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"It's fine," she said, ignoring the little jolt in her stomach at the small lie. She didn't want to tell him that she was unhappy with her life on the farm.

He turned back to the truck and picked up a sack of feed.

"I need to get this inside," he said, carrying it into the barn.

Jessica seemed to notice her distress.

"Sweetie, why don't we go inside and let Jonathan work. It looks like it's going to rain," she said, looking up at the darkening sky.

She walked with her mother-in-law inside the house and made them some coffee. Jessica sat at the table with her cup and gestured for her to sit down next to her.

"Don't think I don't see what's going on," she said. "You're unhappy."

"Jonathan …" Martha began, feeling a little panicked at the thought that her husband knew of her unhappiness. Jessica patted her hand.

"No, he doesn't know, and we're not going to tell him. Sweetheart, no marriage is perfect. You and Jonathan have only been married a few weeks. Trust me, there is always a period of adjustment."

"I'm just … I worry."

"Martha, I love my son, but he can be stubborn as a mule sometimes. Don't think I don't know when you two have had a fight."

It had been the stupidest of fights. She had been trying to help on the farm and Jonathan had basically dismissed her, saying he didn't need her help. She had taken that to mean that he didn't want the help of someone who didn't know what she was doing.

"You know, Jonathan's father could be just as stubborn at times. I think that's where Jonathan gets it from. He has a certain way of working and woe betide anyone who tries to do it a different way. I think he's just forgotten that he and his father had the same battles from time to time. It was like they were two sides of the same coin. Sometimes I wanted to knock their heads together."

"So what do I do?" Martha asked.

"The best advice I can give is to just give it time, sweetie. Jonathan just has to remember that he's not working this farm alone."

It was good advice, but Martha knew it was never going to be that easy. While things slowly began to improve on the farm, it wasn't the same in town. Whenever Jonathan took her shopping, she would notice people in town staring at her, their expressions ranging from curious to disdainful, as if she wasn't good enough for Jonathan.

"Sweetheart, just ignore them," Jonathan would tell her, but she couldn't help feeling like the town pariah. Even after six months of marriage, she was still treated like an outsider.

She finally learned the reason for that when she stopped in at Nell Potter's flower shop one day. The first time she had gone in there with her husband, Nell had gazed at her with what Martha could only call a condescending smirk, then continued to ignore her, flirting with Jonathan. Nell had opened the shop about a month after they had married.

It was fairly clear that Nell thought Jonathan had made a big mistake in choosing Martha over her, and continued to flirt even when Jonathan told her to stop. That he'd made his choice and that was the end of it.

"Well, Martha," Nell said. "Where's that handsome husband of yours?"

"At the feed store," Martha told her. She tried to keep up a casual conversation with the brunette but Nell quickly lost interest. Martha began looking over the flowers, thinking she should take an arrangement to the hospital for a friend of Jessica's, who was being treated for a minor complaint.

The bell over the door rang and Martha glanced up, recognising Lewis and Laura Lang, Nell's sister and brother-in-law. Nell and her sister began talking in low voices, but Martha couldn't help overhearing her name mentioned. She pretended to continue looking over the arrangements while straining to listen to the conversation. Her mother had always told her she shouldn't eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it.

The way the conversation was going, she finally understood why people still looked at her as an outsider. It was clear Nell was the source of it all.

When she finally found Jonathan, he was still talking with Jonas Matthews, who ran the feed store. Martha pulled him away and got in the truck.

"Did you know Nell was spreading rumours about me?" she asked.

"Nell wouldn't do that," he assured her.

"How would you know? Every time we're in there, she's flirting with you."

"That's just how she is," he insisted.

"You don't get it, Jonathan. She's telling people all these lies about me. That's why people still treat me like an outsider."

"No they don't," he replied.

Not wanting it to escalate into a fight, Martha dropped the matter, but she never forgot it. She didn't want to resent her husband for not seeing his ex-girlfriend for what she was. Besides, he hadn't married Nell, he'd married her, so who cared what everyone else thought?

Her mother called her late one evening.

"Hi sweetie," she said.

"Mom. Is everything okay?"

"Of course it is, darling. Why wouldn't it be?"

She didn't know what she had thought when she heard her mother's voice on the phone. It was a rare occasion now when her parents called to speak to her. She supposed that was partly her father's doing. Ever since the fight with Jonathan he had been growing more and more distant. Jessica assured her that her father would eventually come around - maybe when she had children.

"Your father has some news," Mary said. "There is a judge who needs an intern, and he thinks you'd be perfect for the job."

As much as Martha wanted to turn it down, she knew she didn't want to waste an opportunity. She went for the interview and was hired. Jonathan wasn't exactly happy about it, but Martha thought that since he didn't seem to need her on the farm, she might as well do something.

Her husband at least seemed to notice she was a lot happier, even if she was forced to commute to the city every day, but it was fairly clear he wasn't happy with it.

They began to argue more. Little things began to crop up between them until Martha started to wonder if getting married had been a mistake after all. Even Jessica's intervention hadn't helped.

She was tired from driving back and forth to the city all day, and Jonathan was tired from working alone on the farm. They would both fall into bed exhausted every night, barely even speaking to each other.

As winter turned to spring, the snow began to melt, and the rains came. Martha left work early one Friday evening to find Ethan and the other deputies loading sandbags into trucks. She pulled up beside the workers.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Ethan turned and frowned slightly. "Martha, hello. Uh, yeah, the rain's been pouring all day. Looks like the river's backing up."

She nodded, realising if the river was backing up there could be danger of flooding. She drove home, finding a couple of trucks blocking the gravel drive.

"Jonathan?" she called, ignoring the rain pouring down as she ran toward the house. Her husband came out with Jack Jennings.

"Hi sweetheart. They just called a warning over the radio. They need people to help stop the river from flooding. We're getting some men together and going down to see what we can do."

Without further comment, Martha ran into the house and quickly changed into jeans and a shirt, putting on a jacket. She would no doubt get soaked, but it was better than those whose homes were at risk of being flooded. Martha grabbed work boots and put them on.

Jonathan was still loading the truck with tools and what appeared to be sacks. He looked at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going with you," she told him. He opened his mouth as if he was going to argue, and she shut him up with a look.

"Jon, we gotta go," Jack called.

Martha got in the truck in the middle of her husband and his best friend, not commenting as Jonathan drove away from the farm and down to the river where others were already working. The river was swollen and from the look of the sky, it was only going to get worse.

She worked without complaint, even when her hands felt frozen, the skin red, the joints cracking as she helped to lay sandbags to push back the rising waters.

As she continued to work alongside her husband, she couldn't help but catch the murmurs from the townspeople. Instead of the negative comments she expected, however, she heard nothing but admiration for the way she had just got on with it.

It was a long night and they were all exhausted. Nell and her sister kept up a steady stream of hot coffee, clearly surprised to see Martha there, but not commenting on it.

There were cheers when the rain finally stopped. Even more cheers could be heard when the sun began to rise the next morning. The floodwaters would take some time to recede, but they had done it. Twenty families, whose homes were dotted along the riverbanks, would be able to go home again.

The best part was that Martha had finally managed to break down the walls between her and the rest of the town. She was no longer considered an outsider. She was one of them.

Jonathan hugged her, giving her a passionate kiss.

"You were wonderful, sweetheart," he said.

She stayed in her husband's embrace, turning her head to glance at Nell, who stood watching them with an unreadable expression. Martha didn't care. Smallville was her home now.


	7. Devastating Diagnosis

Notes: I don't know when Jonathan's mother died, so I'm making up my own date. In this story, she dies around 1987. I'm also taking a little poetic licence with the line from Season Three: Exile. I just felt there was more to what they were going through at that point in their lives.

Devastating Diagnosis

1986

Jonathan couldn't believe he and Martha had just celebrated four years of marriage. It seemed as if time had passed so quickly, yet their marriage was as strong as ever. Sure, they'd had a few bumps along the way, but they had eventually learned how to get over those little hurdles and make it a true partnership.

One of the things he'd had to learn was to let Martha find her own rhythm in the farm work, rather than do things his way. His mother had once told him that just because he'd done something his way his entire life, it didn't mean someone else's way was not as good. He had learned a tough lesson that first year when Martha had tried to help out on the farm, only for him to yell at her when he felt she was doing it wrong.

He whistled as he walked across the fields, watching her as she drove the tractor, her red hair gleaming in the summer sun. She seemed so much at peace when she was out in the field.

She spotted him watching her and drove toward him. He grinned and waved, waiting at the gate as she approached.

"Hi," she said, jumping off the tractor and running to him.

Her red hair flew in the breeze. She was wearing a short-sleeved white top that seemed to give her skin a glow. God, how did he get so lucky? he thought.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, reaching for her to kiss her. "What are you doing?"

"Oh nothing much. You're all sweaty," she said, running her hand across his chest.

"It's hot."

"Mm, I think we could both do with some nice cold lemonade, don't you?"

He bent and kissed her again. "You read my mind, sweetheart."

Together, they walked across the drive toward the house. Just as they sat down on the porch with some lemonade, his mother's car pulled up. Jonathan frowned as she got out, her gait slow. She had gone for her usual check up a few days earlier and the doctor's office had called, asking her to come in.

"Mom?" he said, going toward her. "What's wrong?"

His mother looked up. She seemed shaken, her face pale.

"Oh, hi, sweetie," she said, trying to sound bright.

"Mom?" Martha called, moving to stand beside him.

"Is that lemonade?" Jessica said faintly.

"I'll get you a glass," Martha replied, taking her hand and leading her to the porch.

The two women sat down on the porch swing.

Jonathan looked at his mother worriedly.

"Mom? What did the doctor say?"

She bit her lip, then sighed. "It's cancer. I have breast cancer."

"Oh, Mom, no," Martha said, sounding upset.

"There must be something they can do," Jonathan said hesitantly.

His mother shook her head. "All they can do is operate," she said.

He didn't voice what they were all thinking. They couldn't really afford the huge medical bills that were bound to crop up. Even to remove her breast was an expensive surgery. But she was his mother and if it could save her life, he would do anything.

"We'll work it out," he told Martha in bed that night.

Martha held him comfortingly. "Of course we will," she said. He heard the worry in her tone, knowing she was thinking of their finances. The farm had never really been profitable, but they could scrape by.

***

Martha didn't want to say anything to her husband, but she had considered going out and trying to get another job. She had quit the internship with the judge after the night of the flood, and while she was happy on the farm, she wondered if there was something else she could do to help with the family finances.

Still, she knew from experience that Jonathan would stubbornly refuse to let her get a job, even if it was for an office in town. He didn't like other people knowing their business, and if she did get a job in town then people would know they were struggling financially.

She watched him over the next few days as he drove his mother back and forth to the hospital. She was booked for surgery in a week. While he tried to put a brave face on it, she could tell he was devastated by the diagnosis. He'd already lost his father, now he was afraid of losing his mother too.

It was all right for her, Martha thought. She still had both her parents living, even if her father refused to talk to her. Her mother at least called a couple times a month, but she had always been close to her father as a little girl and she sometimes resented the fact they were no longer close.

Despite the surgery, Jessica seemed to get paler and thinner as time wore on. Jonathan continued on as if it wasn't happening, but Martha knew it was just his way of coping with it.

She wished she could get pregnant so they could at least have something good to look forward to. Their neighbours, the Langs, announced that Laura was pregnant and around November of that year, Laura gave birth to a beautiful little girl. Martha did her duty of cooing over the infant, but still felt the pangs of envy. She and Jonathan had been married over four years and they still had no child.

Deciding she needed to do something about it, Martha made an appointment with her gynaecologist.

Jonathan frowned at her when she told him what the appointment was for.

"Sweetheart, we don't need to …"

"I need to," she told him. "For my own peace of mind."

"Then I'll go with you," he said.

True to his word, he went with her to the appointment. The doctor listened to her concerns, then booked her for some tests. Jonathan went with her to those as well, holding her hand as the doctor performed an internal exam.

A few days later, he called her back.

"It's not good news, I'm afraid," he said. "Martha, have you heard of endometriosis?"

She glanced at Jonathan, who looked just as puzzled as she was.

The doctor showed them a picture.

"This is a normal woman's uterus, and this is yours. Endometriosis is, put simply, tissue growth outside of your uterus. Unfortunately, in the majority of cases, it causes infertility. I could go into a long-winded explanation, but I don't think you really need to hear that. I'm sorry, Martha, Jonathan, but it's unlikely you will ever be able to have children."

As upset as Martha was at the diagnosis, she had little time to think about that, as Jessica took a turn for the worse. It was clear to both her and Jonathan that she wouldn't make it to next summer.

Two days after her final visit to the doctor and the devastating results of her tests, Martha had to go to the barn for something and saw Jonathan crying. The sound tore at her heart, but she decided then and there that she wasn't going to let this beat them.

He turned his head and saw her watching him.

"It isn't fair," he said. "Why us?"

Martha took his hand and held it.

"Jonathan, as clichéd as it sounds, my grandmother used to say that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade."

He sniffled. "You're right. That does sound clichéd."

"Honey, this is not the end of the world," she said, with more faith than she really felt. As much as she wanted to cry about the unfairness of it all, that wasn't what he needed right now. "Maybe we can't have a child of our own, but I know somehow that we will find a way. We will have happy days again, you'll see."

He tried for a wan smile and she kissed him softly. No matter what life threw at them, as long as they were together, that was all that mattered.

They stood there, holding each other, determined that this, like everything else they'd faced, would not change how they felt about each other.


	8. He Found Us

If Jonathan were to think back, years later, about that disastrous day the meteors fell in Smallville, he would have scratched his head in wonder, for who would have thought that in the midst of all that chaos, they would find a miracle? For years to come, Jonathan had no doubt he would look at the beautiful little boy who had literally crashed into their world and wonder just what he had done to deserve such happiness.

He watched as his wife struggled to find something the little boy would eat. Everything was clearly new and strange to him. The tastes, the sights, the sounds. He hadn't even spoken a single word.

Martha had a spoonful of peas in her hand and was trying to feed them to the boy.

"Just try one," she coaxed. "It's good for you. See?" she said, popping a couple in her mouth. They were fresh from the garden.

The child - Jonathan just couldn't get used to the idea of calling him Clark, took a couple of peas from the spoon and imitated Martha. He quickly screwed up his face and shook his head, spitting them out again. He made a sound that seemed to be a fairly good facsimile of 'yuck'.

Jonathan laughed at the boy's expression, genuinely amused by his obvious distaste for peas. The child immediately turned to him, his expression suggesting he was wondering what he had done wrong.

"Oh no, sweetie," Martha said. "It's okay. Your dad isn't laughing at you, are you honey?"

"No," he said, shaking his head in denial.

"Why don't we try some mashed potatoes," Jonathan suggested, using the spoon to make some kind of trail through the creamy potatoes. He'd often said Martha's mashed potatoes were the creamiest in the county, and not just because she used butter and different seasonings to give them that extra 'oomph'. Even his mother's had never been that good.

The child from the stars watched him in fascination as he pretended to be a bulldozer with the spoon, making engine noises. Jonathan looked up at a clapping noise and saw the little boy clapping his hands. He had a huge grin on his face.

Jonathan continued to make the noises, dipping the spoon once more and lifting it up to the boy.

"Here it comes," he said.

His new son opened his mouth obediently although his expression was still a little wary. Jonathan fed him the mashed potatoes. The boy's face lit up in genuine pleasure.

"Jonathan, I think he likes it."

"Sure does, but who wouldn't," he replied, grinning at his wife.

They managed to get him to eat some of the stew Martha had cooked. When the boy began rubbing his eyes and yawning, Jonathan scooped him up in his arms. They had managed to clear out the spare room, which had once been his mother's, and had found a little teddy bear in amongst the toys and clothes Jessica had stored in the attic. The bed was a little big for the boy, but Jonathan arranged some pillows around him so he wouldn't fall out, watching as his little boy fell asleep clutching the teddy bear.

They decided to keep the bedroom door open and the hall light on, not knowing what the child remembered of his journey through space, or even how long he had been in space.

They really had no idea what they were dealing with, but despite Jonathan's misgivings, he'd known once he'd seen the look in his wife's eyes that there was no way they could ever give up the beautiful child.

It had been an incredible sight. The child, naked as the day he was born, walking across scorched earth toward them in their overturned truck, an angelic smile on his face, his dark, curly hair tousled and messy.

Once they'd managed to get out of the truck and walk along the crater which the meteor had created and found the ship, no more than about a hundred feet from their truck, Jonathan's first thought had been, were there more of them? Who would send a little child out into space alone?

"Sweetheart we can't keep him," he'd said, even as Martha looked into the boy's green eyes. He'd known in that instant, the way she looked at him, there was no way he would ever be able to tear them apart. The boy clung to her fiercely, as if sensing Jonathan's ambivalence and, if he admitted it, more than a little fear. If the authorities were to learn this boy was not of Earth, how could he protect him?

He tried to tell his wife this as they sat drinking coffee downstairs, listening for any sign of the little boy waking up. Jonathan's head was still pounding from the concussion he'd sustained in the crash, but he still felt he had been lucky.

"Jonathan, we have to protect him. Who knows what the authorities would do if they were to find out about him. Besides, after what I said to Ethan today, don't you think it'll be a little suspicious?"

Damn, he'd forgotten about that. He was sure his friend wouldn't dig further, not with everything else he had to deal with. Last count, at least fifty townsfolk had been killed in the meteor shower, including little Lana Lang's parents. Her aunt Nell was taking care of her, of course, but the three-year-old had watched her parents die in front of her.

He bit his lip. "Then how do we do this?" he asked. "Eventually people are going to want to see the paperwork."

Martha looked pensive. "I suppose we could call my dad," she said. "We'd have to tell him the truth …"

She trailed off. Jonathan shook his head. After the way William had treated Martha, refusing to even acknowledge their marriage, he wanted nothing to do with the man.

"Absolutely not. I am not letting that man anywhere near our son."

Martha looked a little surprised. It was the first time Jonathan had acknowledged Clark as their son. He couldn't help a little smile. Their son. Martha hadn't been the only one desperate to have a child. Jonathan had always wanted to be a father, and had been devastated when they'd learned it just wasn't going to be possible.

He remembered what Martha had said to him that day. They would find a way.

He recalled the man they'd helped on the road, whose young son had been gravely injured in the meteor shower. The man's business card was still in his coat pocket.

"All right," he said. "I think I know someone who can help. So, I guess we need to work out what we're going to say on the adoption papers."

Martha nodded. "We'll call him Clark, like I told Ethan. I do think my maiden name would make a great first name."

He nodded his agreement, grabbing a pen and paper and writing it down.

"What about a middle name?"

"Joseph," Martha replied. "After my grandfather."

"Now wait, you get to name him Clark …"

"Then what do you suggest?"

"How about Jerome? After my great-grandfather. It sounds better with Clark."

His wife thought about that for a moment, then nodded.

"It does."

Jonathan scribbled that on the paper, then bit the end of his pen.

"Don't nibble on the pen, honey," Martha admonished him gently. "You'll get ink in your mouth."

"You know that's an old wives' tale," he returned.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Sue me."

"I know what I'd rather do," he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, laughing. "We have to focus on this."

"Okay, okay. Party pooper."

"Who are you calling a party …"

There was a sharp cry from upstairs and they both ran, taking the steps two at a time. Clark was crying, screaming in his sleep. Martha hurried toward the bed, but Jonathan got there first, scooping the little boy in his arms.

"It's okay, son, you're okay," he said. "It's just a nightmare."

Still half asleep, Clark whimpered, clinging to him. Jonathan continued to talk to him in a soothing tone, rocking him gently and patting his back until Clark calmed and fell asleep again.

They crept downstairs once more.

"It must be so strange for him," Martha mused.

Jonathan chewed on his lip.

"He'd be about three, wouldn't he?" he asked. "If we tell people he's three, they might expect him to be at preschool," he told her.

She nodded. "You're right. He needs time to get used to his surroundings before we make him go to school. Why don't we just tell people he's two and a half, just big for his age?"

"Then we could make his birthday around May," Jonathan said reasonably. "That way he could still go to school with kids around the same age. He wouldn't have to get left back."

"That's a good idea honey."

With the matter decided, Jonathan put in a call to Lionel Luthor, who brought the adoption papers to the farm a few days later.

It was just a pity that trusting Lionel was the worst mistake Jonathan could ever have made.


	9. Decisions

Clark had been with them only a few weeks and there were times when Jonathan wondered what they had let themselves in for.

The little boy seemed to have adapted very well, although he still couldn't speak English yet. Martha was, of course, completely besotted with their son. Jonathan had to admit to himself the child was adorable and he enjoyed watching his wife with the boy, especially at bath time.

At first Clark had been a little unsure of himself when Martha had begun to draw him his first bath. He'd looked at the water running in fascination, standing naked beside his mother, watching as the tub filled. As Jonathan watched his little boy Clark moved so quickly they couldn't stop him, running his hand through the hot water.

Martha gasped, grabbing Clark's hand.

"No, sweetie, that's hot," she warned. Clark's eyes grew huge and he looked like he was going to cry, clearly startled by Martha's actions.

What confused Jonathan was when Martha looked at the boy's hand, it was a little pink from the heat of the water, but there was no sign of any scalding.

He couldn't help but wonder what kind of place the boy had come from. Clark looked like a normal little boy, which wasn't unusual, he supposed, but then again, he had seen a few alien movies in his time and he would have expected something to have been different.

Still, there was a big difference between imagination and reality and when it happened, Jonathan was unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes.

Like any normal toddler, or at least from what Jonathan's friends who had kids told him, Clark had had his fair share of temper tantrums. Jonathan could sympathise, knowing that it must be frustrating for the little boy who had come from a place that must be so different from Earth. Definitely more advanced, he thought.

He also had his fair share of mishaps.

Clark had been playing in the barn while Jonathan worked on the tractor. He'd turned his back on the boy for just a second to tighten a nut when he'd heard scrabbling above him. Jonathan whirled, alarmed to realise Clark wasn't beside him, but had somehow managed to get up to the hayloft.

Jonathan had been considering building steps up to the loft, for now using it as temporary storage. Clearly Clark had found the ladder and wondered what was up there. He was now standing on the topmost rung of the ladder, looking around.

"Clark!" Jonathan cried out in alarm.

The little boy turned his head at Jonathan's shout, losing his balance. Jonathan ran to the bottom of the ladder and was about to start the climb up when the toddler fell off. He quickly stepped away and tried to catch his son.

Clark didn't quite weigh as much as a fifty pound bag of feed, but it was still enough to send Jonathan sprawling as the wind was knocked out of him. The boy scrambled up, clearly unhurt, and ran out.

Jonathan managed to get to his feet and ran out after his son, calling his name. As little as Clark was, he sure seemed to be quick on his feet, Jonathan thought. He'd disappeared before Jonathan could catch him.

He ran into the house, calling for his wife.

"Martha?"

Martha was baking. The sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the house. Clark liked cookies, especially Martha's oatmeal raisin ones.

She wiped her hands on a towel and looked around at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Clark … is he here?"

"He came running in a minute ago," she said. "Jonathan, what's wrong?" she repeated.

"He had a little … accident. I don't think he's hurt, just scared."

"I think he went upstairs," she said, starting to take off her apron. He shook his head.

"Let me get him," he said, thinking it was his fault Clark was so scared. If he hadn't shouted, Clark wouldn't have fallen off the ladder.

He went upstairs, checking first the bathroom and Clark's bedroom, but the little boy wasn't there. The door to the attic was kept locked, so he knew Clark wouldn't have gone there.

Biting his lip, he called out.

"Clark? It's okay son."

He tried to sound reassuring but wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. Clark had obviously been frightened by the mishap, which was understandable, but Jonathan would have thought the toddler would have come out when called.

Guess not, he thought, realising he couldn't assume anything when it came to his son.

The door to his and Martha's room was ajar when normally it was closed when they weren't in it. Clark had started to explore his new world which meant he would frequently get into mischief. Martha had taken to closing the bedroom door thinking it would keep the boy out.

He slowly pushed the door open and heard little sobs and moans coming from underneath the bed. It was a huge oak bed his grandfather had made long before Jonathan had been born. It was a heavy thing and Martha often complained when she had to move the bed to vacuum underneath.

"Clark? It's all right," he said.

Clark stopped crying, his sobs becoming hiccoughs.

"You can come out," Jonathan coaxed.

Still no sign of him. Jonathan realised there was nothing for it. He would have to crawl under the bed to get his son out.

There wasn't much room under the bed - no more than about a foot. Just big enough for a three year old, or rather a two and a half year old Clark's size. Certainly not big enough for a man Jonathan's size.

Still, he did his best to crawl on his stomach underneath, offering Clark a reassuring smile. His son stared at him in fascination, all thoughts of his fright long forgotten. Oh to be a child with a short memory, Jonathan thought with a smile.

He lifted his head suddenly, smashing his crown against the bottom slat of the bed.

"Ow!" he said.

Clark giggled, a high childish sound.

"Oh you think that's funny huh?"

Well, he supposed it could look funny to a toddler, he thought, continuing to struggle along the floor to get to Clark.

Suddenly the space under the bed was no longer so confined. Jonathan stared in amazement, wondering how it could have happened. He sat up, looking around, then was stunned to realise Clark was lifting it up.

He stared at his son, open-mouthed. Dear god, what had they let into their lives? he thought.

He scrambled quickly away from underneath the bed, which was now about a foot above his head. He had no idea how Clark was doing it and wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Clark, son, put it down," he said, not sure if his boy understood him. He held out his hands, palms down, and pushed down, hoping Clark would understand the action.

It seemed he did as a few moments later he let the bed down, although none too gently. The bed landed on the floor with a loud thump.

Martha appeared in the doorway less than a minute later.

"What was that?" she asked.

Jonathan had gathered his son in his arms, a little fearful, considering what he'd just witnessed, but trying to reassure him all the same.

He waited until after Clark had had his dinner and a bath and been put to bed before he told his wife what had happened. She looked just as stunned as he felt.

Martha had always been the more open-minded of the two of them, but after what her husband had related about Clark, she had difficulty trying to understand what had just happened.

She watched her son over the next couple of days and didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but clearly Jonathan was worried.

He began talking about taking their son to a doctor who could help them and spent the next few days going through the phone directory. Neither of them wanted to take Clark to the hospital, knowing that would be just as likely to frighten the child.

Yet, Martha worried about her little boy. Maybe he had only been with them a couple of months, but she already loved the little boy and felt he was as much her son as if she had given birth to him.

Despite her husband's fears, she had no such concerns about Clark. She loved watching him play and explore the strange new world he'd found himself in.

She had no idea where it had come from, but Clark had managed to find a rag doll that he played with. It was like a normal rag doll, with yellow coloured wool for hair. Clark was sitting on the floor of the parlour, a plate of cookies by his side, playing with the doll.

"Lara," he said, stroking its head.

Martha frowned, listening as he said it again. She wondered what the word meant, but didn't think too much of it.

Jonathan entered the kitchen, holding a magazine.

"I think I found a place," he said. "There's a doctor in Metropolis. I think we should take Clark to him. At least let him have a look at him."

"Jonathan …"

"Martha, sweetheart, Clark isn't a normal child. We're just not equipped to deal with this."

Martha knew her husband's mind was set and she went along with it, holding Clark in her arms as Jonathan drove to Metropolis. He looked up at her, his green eyes wide, but so trusting. As much as she wanted to solve the mystery of her son, it played on her mind.

As Jonathan pulled the truck into a parking space next to the building which housed the laboratory complex, she stared at it. The building was a horrible dark grey. It looked cold and so impersonal. She wondered what kind of person this doctor would be.

"Come on, Martha," Jonathan said, his hand on the door handle.

"Jonathan, wait. I'm not sure about this," she said, looking down at her son once again.

"Martha, sweetheart, we can't …"

"Jonathan, don't you understand? If this doctor realises Clark isn't … from here, he could have him locked up in some government lab and we'd never see him again. Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what to do, Martha. You know what happened."

"I know. But I also know that he's just a little boy who won't understand what we're doing. Jonathan, I think we were meant to be Clark's parents. We were meant to protect him."

Her husband bit his lip. "But sweetheart …"

"Don't you see? If the government takes him away, they could do anything to him. They could hurt him."

She had seen enough movies about alien invasions to know that the government didn't take kindly to visitors from another world. How could she leave this little boy in the hands of someone who wouldn't care that they were hurting him? Who would probably dissect him like a frog? No, she thought. It was up to them to protect Clark. Their son.

Jonathan looked at her and nodded. He turned on the ignition and pulled away from the complex. Taking his family back home.


	10. First Christmas

Christmas was usually a quiet holiday in the Kent household, but Jonathan had decided that since this was Clark's first Christmas, he was going to make it a memorable one for his son. He had gone out to the back forty and cut down a pine tree, taking it back home and installing it in the parlour.

Clark was fascinated with the huge tree. He'd just started talking, although he wasn't quite up to actual English yet, and he babbled happily as he watched his father struggle valiantly with the huge tree, making sure it was balanced in the stand.

Martha came downstairs, lugging a huge box.

"I found these in the attic," she said, brushing her hair back. Jonathan smiled at his wife, then reached over, picking up a cobweb which had become caught in her long hair. He took the box from her, putting it down on the floor then kneeling down to open it up.

Clark toddled over, getting down on his knees and placing his hand in the box.

"Careful son," Jonathan told him gently, not wanting to scold the little boy who didn't know how to control his peculiar strength yet. There had been a couple of accidents in the two months he'd been with them. Luckily so far he'd only crushed a toy when he'd picked it up and broken an egg when he'd tried to help his father gather the eggs from the chickens. He'd been upset about both incidents but they'd comforted him, telling him it was okay. No harm had been done.

It had occurred to Jonathan to wonder exactly what had happened inside the ship during the boy's journey through space. He would have thought it would be too easy for Clark to have put his foot through a floorboard, considering his strength, or put his hand through a wall, yet he seemed to instinctively understand how not to do such things.

He was clearly learning fast. Jonathan would look at his son sometimes and practically see the wheels turning in the child's head as he figured things out. He already knew how to turn on a faucet and he was already resisting his mother's attempts to dress him in suitable clothes.

There were plenty of other things that Jonathan assumed were perfectly natural for a child Clark's age. He was old enough to have learned toilet-training, but young enough to need pull-ups and there had been a couple of overnight accidents. Still, that was totally normal, according to the books Martha had read.

Clark picked up a gold-coloured bauble, holding it carefully in his small hand. He sent a questioning look to his father and babbled.

"I made that in grade school," Jonathan said, holding it up for his wife to see. She bent down, smiling at Clark.

"Why don't you help Daddy put it on the tree," she suggested.

Clark looked at her, then at his father. Jonathan stood up, picking his son up and held out the bauble. He moved toward the tree and handed the bauble to Clark, making sure he held it by the string, then guided his son's small hand to the tree.

Slowly they worked together to decorate the tree with Martha handing them each decoration. Finally, she handed him the star. Jonathan smiled at his son.

"What do you think, Clark? Shall we put it on the top of the tree?"

Clark grinned and nodded his head. Jonathan reached up and placed it at the top. Luckily the tree wasn't much taller than him, since he'd opted for a seven footer rather than the nine footer he'd seen on the property.

Martha wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled down at their son.

"Doesn't the tree look beautiful, Clark? You and Daddy did a great job."

Clark nodded and clapped his hands. His mouth worked as if he was trying to say something, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Martha took his hand. "Can you say Daddy?" she asked.

"Dee," he replied.

Well, it was close enough, Jonathan thought.

Two days later it was Christmas Eve. As much as they wanted to go to Mass, Martha thought it wasn't such a good idea. Especially since Clark was so young. She reasoned that people might ask too many questions and Clark might find it all a little disconcerting.

They hadn't had too many visitors to the farm as yet. Most people in town knew they kept pretty much to themselves, but word had quickly spread of Clark's adoption. Nell had, of course, called to ask when they were going to bring Clark into town, Martha had told her that she didn't think it was a good idea as Clark was still getting used to them.

Nell seemed to have taken that as a personal affront. Jonathan didn't know any other way it could have been said. They just didn't know how they were supposed to keep Clark's strange ability a secret since their son was too little to understand what it all meant.

Christmas Eve night, Clark was acting hyper. He'd picked up on Martha's excitement of their first Christmas with their first child and as much as Jonathan wanted to scold his son, he couldn't help but be just as excited, thinking of Clark opening his gifts the next day.

Clark zoomed past him, giggling as his mother pursued him. Jonathan had to laugh. Clark was butt naked. Martha had taken him upstairs for his bath but the boy had obviously slipped past her.

"You come back here, young man!" she was calling out, her voice full of amusement.

Clark again moved to pass him and Jonathan reached out, grabbing the giggling toddler and hoisting him in his arms.

"Whoa buddy, where do you think you're going?"

"Play Daddeee!"

Jonathan almost dropped his son in shock as Clark uttered those words. Martha practically skidded to a stop, staring at their son in surprise. Clark giggled at the reaction.

"Play Daddeee!" he said again, squirming in Jonathan's arms.

Jonathan laughed and threw his son up in the air, catching him and hugging him tightly.

"Oh no, buddy, Daddy can't play. It's bathtime then you have to go to bed or else Santa Claus won't come."

Clark looked at him, his brow furrowed as he tried to process the information. He let Jonathan carry him back upstairs to the bath.

Martha stood and watched as her husband chattered to Clark, who babbled back. She couldn't help smiling at the sounds her precious boy was making. She didn't mind that he'd learned to say 'Daddy' first. It was only a matter of time before he began to say 'Mommy', given the speed he was learning English.

Jonathan turned his head and looked at her, his eyes twinkling. He clearly loved being a father and adored their little boy. It was a big change from two months ago when they'd both been so unsure of how to deal with this strange child. Now Martha knew her husband would do anything to protect their son.

She picked up a huge fluffy towel as Jonathan lifted Clark out of the bath and wrapped the toddler in it. He squirmed, clearly still wanting to play. Martha dried him off quickly and dressed him in flannel pyjamas. She'd found a pattern in a book and had made up the pyjamas using some material she had had left over from making a couple of work shirts for Jonathan. Maybe they weren't fashionable, but it was less expensive than buying them from the local store. The farm was just making ends meet and they didn't really have a lot of money for luxuries, so she had to make do.

She often wondered whether she should contact her parents and see if they would help out financially, but she knew Jonathan wouldn't go for it. She loved her husband but he could be a stubborn ass at times. There was also the fact that her parents would probably want to get to know Clark and she wasn't willing to risk them knowing about Clark's origins. Her mother would most likely take it in stride, but her father would ask too many questions for which she didn't have answers.

Jonathan helped Clark brush his teeth and took him out to his bedroom. Martha followed, again watching as her husband deposited the toddler on the bed and pulled back the covers.

"In you get, son," he said. "How about we read a story?"

Clark nodded enthusiastically. He pointed to the bookshelf. They had managed to get a few books at a sale, including The Velveteen Rabbit, which was fast becoming Clark's favourite. Jonathan went to the shelf, his hand hovering beside that book, but he chose instead to pick up The Night Before Christmas.

Martha sat in the chair beside the bed, loving the little ritual they were developing as Jonathan settled on the bed with Clark practically in his lap. The little boy was riveted as her husband opened the book and began to read.

"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse …"

Martha stroked her son's dark head as his eyelids began to droop. As much as he was trying to fight it, he was getting sleepy. Jonathan hadn't even finished when Clark fell asleep.

She leaned over and kissed her baby goodnight, giving her husband a soft, loving smile as he did the same, tucking the blankets around the sleeping child.

Hand in hand, they crept quietly out of the room and back down the stairs. Martha poured them each a glass of egg nog - homemade, of course - and they sat on the sofa, watching the coloured lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.

Martha could still remember wishing each Christmas since she and Jonathan had married that they would soon share the holiday with their own child, and been disappointed when yet again that wish hadn't been fulfilled. Last Christmas she hadn't made the wish, but somehow she had been granted that miracle anyway.

Tomorrow, Clark would open his gifts and probably make a mess in the process. Jonathan would probably give her something he'd either made himself or some bauble he probably thought she would fancy, but none of that really mattered. She already had her gift, she thought, silently thanking whatever power had deemed she was worthy of such a gift.

Jonathan gave her a one-armed hug, kissing her gently.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he said.

"Merry Christmas," she returned, relaxing in the comfort of his embrace, closing her eyes and dreaming of their first Christmas as a family and of the many Christmases to come.


	11. Secret Mission

Jonathan left his wife sleeping and tip-toed quietly out of the bedroom, moving down the hall to his son's room. He heard sounds coming from the room and opened the door, grinning as he realised his son was sitting up in bed, playing with the wooden tractor Jonathan had given him for Christmas. It was adorable the way Clark was making the sounds of the tractor engine.

Clark looked up.

"Hi Daddy," he said.

Jonathan put a finger to his lips. "Shh," he said. "Don't wake Mommy."

"Why?" Clark asked, raising his eyebrows. "Why Mommy sleepin'?"

Jonathan crept into the room and found a pair of jeans and a shirt for Clark.

"Remember?" Jonathan said. "You and I are going on a secret mission."

Clark nodded, his green eyes dancing with excitement. He reached for his dad, raising his little arms.

"Let's get you dressed, son. Then we'll go brush your teeth."

"Okay," the boy replied.

It took ten minutes to get the boy ready, only because he tended to dawdle over brushing his teeth, making sure he got every tooth. Jonathan didn't mind, however. Even after more than six months, he still found joy in those little things, knowing just how happy his wife was now that she had the one thing she had always wanted.

He still remembered what she had confessed to him the day they'd found Clark.

"I see a little face. It's all I've ever wanted."

If Jonathan had to be honest, it was all he'd ever wanted too. To be able to pass a legacy to his child, even if that child chose not to be a farmer. Given Clark's unique abilities, Jonathan was sure whatever his destiny, it would be something great.

"Ready Clark?" he asked, taking his son's hand.

Together, they made their way downstairs and out to the truck. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was warm, but since it was still early, it hadn't reached its peak as yet.

Jonathan lifted Clark into the cab, getting in beside him and starting the engine.

"How come Mommy don't come?" Clark asked.

His speech was still a little stilted, but no more than any three-year-old, or almost three, Jonathan thought. He had about the same vocabulary as any child his age.

They still hadn't thought about putting him in preschool. Martha was still reluctant to let Clark out of her sight and truth be told, Jonathan wasn't sure Clark could keep the secret of his peculiar strength. Martha seemed happy enough teaching Clark to read, sitting in the rocking chair with him on her lap as she showed him his letters.

Jonathan smiled proudly. His little boy was the smartest, cutest little boy he'd ever seen. Okay, so he was biased, but how many other kids his age could already read and count? It wasn't perfect, but he didn't care.

As he drove, he explained to his son about this particular day and what it meant. Clark listened attentively, nodding as if he understood every word his dad was saying.

Jonathan thought about the past few months. Clark would sometimes come out when he was working and try to help. While Jonathan was careful not to allow the other workers on the farm to see Clark using his abilities, he didn't mind when his son 'helped' by picking up hay bales. One day, he would teach Clark everything about being a farmer.

He smiled as he recalled one afternoon when he'd been out in the field, checking on the stock. It had been not long after the first snowfall. Clark had been fascinated with the snow, running around, picking it up with his bare hands. He was growing wetter by the second but didn't seem to notice, having the time of his life.

Oh to see everything through a child's eyes, Jonathan thought as he glanced down at his son. Clark viewed every new thing with a fascination that Jonathan envied. He often wondered what kind of world the little boy had come from and whether he had any memory of it. Just how old had he been when he had been sent away from everything he ever knew?

Jonathan assumed Clark had been very young as he couldn't imagine the boy coming from any planet within their solar system.

He pulled up and parked the truck in a space beside the common, getting out and waiting for Clark to jump out. He looked around warily, not really expecting to see anyone he knew in Granville. He supposed he could have gone to the market in Smallville, but he had wanted to avoid running into Nell especially, who had been asking more questions than Jonathan could really answer about Clark.

"Come on, son," he said, taking the little boy's hand. Clark happily walked alongside him, singing a little song that was clearly his own interpretation of a popular song he must have heard on the radio as the words were garbled.

Jonathan spotted the stall he wanted and made a beeline for it, barely remembering to shorten his strides so his little boy could keep up. Just as he went to grab what he wanted, he heard a little boy's voice.

"This one, Daddy," he said.

Jonathan looked around and smiled tightly. Bill Ross was with his youngest son, Pete, who was just a few months older than Clark, at least by the age on Clark's birth certificate. Jonathan still felt guilty for persuading Bill to sell the creamed corn plant to Lionel Luthor. Especially after the Metropolis business tycoon had made the not-so-subtle threat about Clark's 'adoption'.

"Hey, Jonathan," Bill said.

The two little boys eyed each other warily.

"Pete, be nice," Bill warned his son as the two boys continued to size each other up. "So," he said, smiling up at Jonathan. "This is Clark."

"Yep."

"Cute little fella. How old is he?"

"He'll be three next week," Jonathan told him.

"That so?" Bill's attention was caught by the chocolate-skinned boy, who was clearly trying to convince Clark to play with him. "Pete, you don't have time to play. Your mom will be up soon."

Jonathan grinned, noticing the package in Bill's hand. "Guess you forgot huh?"

Bill groaned. "Yeah. Seem to forget every year. Say, you hear what's happened at the plant?"

Jonathan nodded. Lionel had closed down the plant, firing all the workers. While he wasn't happy with the way the man had gone about it, he could understand on another level. The plant was run down and hadn't been making a profit for years. Lionel had announced he was going to gut the plant and redevelop it into a fertiliser plant. It wasn't a popular move and the way he had gone about it hadn't won him any favours from the few remaining employees who still had families to feed. Smallville was a small town and unemployment was high.

"Well, we should get a move on," Jonathan said.

Bill nodded. "Yeah, me too." He took Pete's hand and began walking away.

Clark was looking up at the contents of the stall.

"Which one, Clark?" Jonathan asked. His son pointed.

"That one, Daddy."

"That one?" he echoed. Clark nodded his confirmation.

With a grin, Jonathan handed over the money.

Martha normally didn't sleep late. She was usually up around the crack of dawn, getting some of the early chores done before breakfast. This morning, however, she realised she had overslept by a couple of hours.

She frowned, wondering why Jonathan hadn't woken her, or why she had slept through the alarm. She rolled over, feeling the bed. Her husband had clearly been up for a while as his side of the bed was cool. She glanced at the alarm clock and realised it had been turned off.

That was strange.

She got up out of bed and put on a robe, walking down the hallway to her son's room. The door was wide open and he was nowhere to be seen. His bed was made and his little tractor his father had made for him was sitting on the nightstand.

Where had those two rascals got to, she thought.

She was sure she had seen them whispering together in the barn a few days earlier, then Jonathan had taken Clark on some mysterious errand. They'd returned a couple of hours later with parts for the tractor, but Martha was sure they had picked up something else too. Clark had a mischievous expression and he looked as if he was about to blurt out something until his father had pulled him away.

She couldn't help thinking over the past few months and how happy Jonathan was now that he had a son to spoil. Despite the bumpy beginning and the worry over Clark's strange ability, Jonathan had embraced fatherhood completely, taking Clark out on the tractor. Martha remembered when Clark had seen his first snowfall. How fascinated he had been with the snow. He would have played in it for hours if she'd let him.

A normal child would be shivering from playing in the snow without a coat, but Clark didn't seem to be cold at all, even when Jonathan had brought him indoors, his clothes wet through. It was just another thing that stood Clark apart from other children his age, but as far as Martha was concerned, it just made him more special to her.

She loved sitting in the rocking chair with him, reading to him and watching as he absorbed the story, learning new words. He talked as much as any other child now and she loved the way he chattered as if he'd always been talking. She especially loved hearing him call her 'Mommy'. It was a word she had once despaired of ever hearing.

Martha made her way downstairs, frowning at the sounds coming from the kitchen. She heard Clark chattering and the clink of china. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her. Jonathan was making breakfast, she assumed. She would usually cook breakfast, even on a Sunday, but since she'd slept late …

She entered the kitchen and stopped, her mouth opening in shock. Jonathan had not only made blueberry pancakes for breakfast - her favourite, but Clark was helping him, standing on a stool next to his father. The kitchen was a mess. Batter had been spilled, and the bag of flour had somehow split, leaving the powdery substance everywhere.

"Martha!"

"Mommy!"

"Hi sweetie," Martha said, picking up her son. He had batter on his nose and a blueberry stain on his lips. "What's all this?"

"Breakfast," Jonathan replied.

"What's the occasion?" she asked.

"You are," he said.

She frowned at him, not comprehending. He put the plate he was holding on the counter and guided her into the dining room. There was a white vase in the middle of the table filled with red tulips. Again, her favourites. In front of her place at the table was a gaily wrapped gift and an envelope, just about the right size for a card.

"What's this?" she asked.

Jonathan grinned at her. Clark gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Mommies Day, Mommy."

"Oh my goodness!" she said, mentally checking the date. It was Mother's Day! Her first Mother's Day.

Jonathan picked up their son and plopped in his chair. Clark had a special pillow on the chair that let him sit at the table and be able to see over the top.

"Read the card, Mommy," Clark told her.

Martha opened the card. It was just a normal Mother's Day card, but inside was a message from her loving husband and Clark had even signed it himself. The lettering was clumsy and lopsided, but none of that mattered to her.

"So this is what you two have been up to," she said.

"Yep," Jonathan said, grinning mischievously. He leaned over and kissed her. "Nice to know I can still surprise you, sweetheart."

"Oh you can. You definitely can," she said, grinning at her small son.

She would have many more Mother's Days in the future but this one … this one she would cherish forever.


	12. First Birthday

"Hello sweetheart."

Martha looked up from the recipe she had been busy frowning at. Normally, she didn't have a problem with baking, but this was different. This was a birthday cake recipe and she couldn't decide between making it chocolate or vanilla with lemon frosting.

Jonathan went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of milk, tipping it up to drink from it.

"Jonathan Kent! You know you're not supposed to drink from the bottle," she scolded

He grinned at her, totally unrepentant. She rolled her eyes at him.

"What kind of example do you think you're setting to Clark when you do that?" she admonished him.

He had clearly decided it was better not to comment at all, leaning over her shoulder to look at what she was doing.

"It's a birthday cake for Clark," she said.

"Chocolate," he replied, obviously understanding her dilemma. "He likes chocolate."

"Chocolate it is then," she agreed, going to the pantry to get her ingredients. She paused, sighing. "You know, I feel a little …"

"What?"

"Guilty. I feel guilty."

"Why's that, sweetheart?"

"Because every child should have a birthday party. All we're doing is giving Clark a cake and some presents."

"Honey, you know why that is," he reminded her gently.

They'd talked about it over the past few weeks when they'd realised the date they'd picked to be Clark's birthday on his adoption certificate was coming up. Clark was too little to understand that he needed to keep his abilities a secret. He might be smart, but keeping secrets wasn't easy for a child his age.

While he seemed to have control for the most part, there had been an incident the week before which illustrated exactly why they were forced to keep him isolated. Like any toddler, Clark was bound to have little tantrums, especially when he wanted something and was told 'no'. Martha couldn't even recall what had started it, but her son had angrily stomped off, yelling about the injustice of it, in his own way, then punched a hole in the wall in the living room.

Jonathan had immediately picked the boy up and taken him up to his room, telling him to stay there until dinner time. While it hadn't been amusing at the time, Martha could recall with a smile her two boys exchanging words. Clark's speech had been pretty much unintelligible babble, but the tone had been furious. Jonathan had been equally furious, launching into a tirade that the three-year-old probably wouldn't have understood. There were times when father and son were very much alike; Martha guessed Clark was just learning from his dad's behaviours.

Speaking of Clark, she thought.

"Where is he?" she asked.

Jonathan had grabbed a cookie from the jar and was standing at the window as he munched on it, looking out over the field.

"Take a look," he said, sounding amused.

Martha followed his gaze. Clark was out in the field, chasing the cows, or trying to at least, while the cows were ignoring him. She had no idea what game he was playing but judging from the big grin on his face, he was having a ball.

She turned to go back to her baking, becoming absorbed in her task. She wasn't sure how much time had passed but she had most of the batter mixed when the screen door slammed and Clark came running in.

"Daddy, come play."

Jonathan had decided to fix up the hole in the wall, but stopped in his task to laugh at his son. Martha looked up to see what he was laughing at and couldn't help laughing herself. Clark was filthy. His clothes were muddy and his face was caked with dirt.

"You need a bath, kiddo."

"Wanna play!" Clark replied, jumping up and down and giggling.

With a grin, Jonathan scooped him up in his arms and carried him upstairs.

"We can play in the bath with your battleships," he said. "How does that sound?"

"Yay!"

Martha laughed quietly to herself, remembering when Jonathan had bought the little battleships. He'd been like a little kid in a candy store, exclaiming with delight over the detail in the ships. She had wondered at the time if he was buying them for Clark's benefit or his. Their son loved his baths and didn't really need toys to keep him amused.

The next day, the day they'd chosen for Clark's birthday, dawned fine and warm. It wasn't quite up to summer temperatures, but it was warm enough.

Martha had finished the cake and iced it the night before, after Clark had gone to bed. She still wished they had been able to invite some other children, but realised it was for the best. Maybe in a couple of years, she thought.

Jonathan came in, having been out doing the usual morning chores, clearly amused at something Clark was doing. They'd recently taken on a new farmhand, Earl Jenkins. While they were still careful to ensure that Clark wasn't caught using his abilities, he had begun following the farmhand around as the older man worked. Earl didn't seem to mind the endless chatter from the little boy. Jonathan reported that Clark was sitting on a haybale in the barn, watching Earl work. The older man was singing a pop song that was playing on the radio and Clark was doing his best to warble along with him. Badly, Jonathan added.

"How are we doing, sweetheart?" he asked, eyeing the cake.

Martha had decorated the cake with sprinkles and added the words, 'Happy Birthday Clark'. It wasn't anything fancy, but she figured Clark wouldn't really care.

"Can you get the presents, honey?" she asked.

Jonathan nodded and ran upstairs, while she found the little pack of candles they'd bought from the grocery store and placed three on the cake.

She went outside and stood on the porch.

"Clark!" she called.

A little head of curly black hair popped out from the doorway of the barn. Her son grinned at her.

"Come here," she said.

He shook his head, clearly wanting to keep watching Earl.

"Clark Jerome Kent, you get in here right now!"

He frowned at her, his eyes widening. Maybe he had only been with them seven months but even he knew when she used his full name he was in trouble. He ran to her.

"Mommy!"

"Don't even start," she scolded him. "Come inside."

"But …"

"Now, young man."

Of course his eyes widened for a different reason when he saw what was waiting for him at the table. Jonathan had lit the candles and placed the cake on the table, along with Clark's presents.

Clark seemed confused. "Mommy? What's that?"

"It's your birthday cake, son," Jonathan said. He picked up the toddler and plopped him on his chair.

"Happy birthday sweetie," Martha said.

He stared in fascination at the candles, then reached out as if to touch the flame. Martha gently pulled his hand away.

"No sweetie, not like that. First you have to make a wish and then you blow the candles out."

"What's a wish?"

"Remember that movie we were watching, sweetie?" she reminded him. They'd been watching an old Disney movie after lunch on Sunday - Mother's Day. "Think of something you really, really want, but don't tell me or Daddy."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because if you tell us your wish, it won't come true," his father replied. "It's a secret."

Clark still didn't seem to understand, but figured it was some kind of game. Martha watched as Jonathan showed Clark what to do. They sang 'Happy Birthday' and clapped as Clark blew out the candles.

The cake was eaten and Clark was happily playing with all the new toys he'd been given, spreading them out over the living room floor. Martha watched her son for a while as Jonathan cleaned up the kitchen. He came out and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Maybe it wasn't the birthday party she thought Clark should have had, but he'd clearly enjoyed himself just the same.

"Okay, sweetheart?" Jonathan asked.

She nodded, her gaze locked on her precious little boy. Sometimes it was still hard for her to believe he was really hers. She recalled the day in Nell's shop when she had wished for a child of her own. Maybe Lana's game had been just that, but something magical had happened that day.

Clark looked up from his toys and smiled at her.

"Mommy, look," he said, one hand on the little fire truck they'd found in the toystore.

Martha went to him, sitting down on the floor with him. Clark pushed the fire truck toward her, clearly wanting her to play.

"Want to have a race?" she asked, seeing he had a toy car in his hand.

He nodded and smiled happily. She placed the truck beside the car. Race positions.

"Okay, ready, set, go!" And they were off.


	13. Day of the Tractor

There were often times when Martha still had to pinch herself when she looked at the beautiful dark-haired boy who was her son. Her father had told her when she was a child that if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. Clark was literally out of this world but he was still her precious little man, for at five he was growing up so fast.

She would often pull out the photo albums and smile fondly at the pictures of Clark in the bath, or running around the farm. She would giggle to herself as she thought of pulling out the album on his twenty-first birthday and showing his girlfriend, whoever she may be, the photos of a three-year-old naked Clark. Of course, said girlfriend would have to know who or what Clark really was. Otherwise the photo of Clark naked in the snow would look more than a little odd.

Martha could still remember the times Clark would tear off his pyjamas, refusing to wear them, even though the temperature outside was freezing. It was just one more little oddity about her son that she couldn't reveal to others. He didn't seem to feel the cold like most people.

So far, other than that and his unusual strength, Clark hadn't really shown any major differences. He no longer uttered words in that odd language he'd used when he'd first come to live with them. Martha supposed it had been inevitable, really. After all, there was no one else like him around so it would be completely natural for him to have forgotten his native language.

Once they had been assured he could control himself and had learnt not to show his abilities to others, Jonathan had taken him to the park in town. Usually, Pete Ross, their friend Bill's youngest son, would be there as well and the two boys would play in the sandbox. Clark was already referring to Pete as his 'bestest friend in the whole wide world', which Martha found adorable.

It was strange that even after nearly three years, Clark still hadn't met young Lana. For some odd reason, Nell, who had decided to adopt Lana after her parents' deaths, refused to allow Lana to play with other children. At least, with those in Smallville. Nell had become even more protective of her niece since the adoption. Martha could understand that. After all, the woman had lost her sister and brother-in-law and they had been killed right in front of them. Martha could imagine the terror the other woman had felt.

Nell still ran the flower shop in town, but Martha and Jonathan rarely visited the shop. They had too many other things going on.

They were still struggling financially. The farm had seen little profit in the past few years. The recession had hit them all hard. Jonathan wanted to lay the blame solely at the feet of Lionel Luthor, but Martha, as pragmatic as she had always been, felt he was being too hard on the businessman. Sure, Lionel, from what she had heard, was fairly unscrupulous. She had lived among people like the Luthors in Metropolis and knew exactly what they were like. Had she not fallen in love with a farmer, Martha often wondered if she would have become exactly like them.

Of course, then Jonathan would remind her that deep down, she was nothing like them. Even if she was rich or married to a lawyer or doctor as her father had wanted for her, she would never be like that. It just wasn't in her, her husband often told her.

It was moments like those that reminded Martha just how lucky she was to have found someone like Jonathan Kent. Maybe they would never have much in terms of money, but they were richer in so many other ways.

As she watched her husband drive the tractor out of the barn, while Clark stood jumping up and down in the snow in excitement, she couldn't help but think again of how lucky they were. Clark adored his father and it was mutual.

Jonathan was grinning as he stopped the tractor and got down, coming over to her.

"Ready sweetheart?" he asked.

"For what?" she replied.

He picked up the video camera. Martha had no idea how he could have afforded it, but he'd given it to her last Christmas. She already had dozens of tapes filled with footage of their little boy and his antics. Nothing showing his abilities, however. Martha dreaded the idea of someone getting a hold of those tapes and exposing Clark to the world. So she had been careful not to film anything which showed him as anything other than a cute little boy.

Jonathan lifted Clark in his arms and carried him over to the tractor. Clark clapped his hands in glee. He'd been bugging his father about being able to go on the tractor, clearly curious about how it worked. While Jonathan of course wanted his son to inherit the farm, Martha wasn't sure she should encourage it.

Clark was almost like a miniature of his father, preferring to wear the same style of clothing, right down to the plaid shirts. Of course, due to practicality, Martha was only too happy to allow her son to imitate his father. She often picked up the plaid flannel on sale and because it was so cheap, she could afford enough to make a shirt for her husband and a shirt for Clark as well.

Today, the five-year-old had chosen to wear a plaid shirt and blue jacket. He had reached the stage now where it wasn't cool to have Mommy choose his clothes for him and he sometimes came up with odd combinations, but she didn't object. Her little boy was starting to assert his independence.

"Martha, are you getting this?" Jonathan called out.

She looked up, realising Jonathan was sitting back on the tractor. Clark was sitting on his lap, his hands on the wheel of the tractor. Of course, the machine was far too heavy for Clark, even with his strength, to control, so Jonathan had one hand on the wheel.

"Here, go that way," he guided their son. "Make a figure eight."

"Please be careful," Martha called.

Jonathan grinned at her, shaking his head at her tone, before calling out:

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It's gonna be fine."

Martha almost snorted. There were times when Jonathan's antics didn't always go to plan. She loved her husband but she knew better than to trust him at his word.

"That's what you always say," she shot back.

The tractor seemed to swing around and Clark frowned in concentration.

"That way?" he asked. Martha wasn't sure which way he meant. Jonathan continued to guide him, then laughingly replied to Martha's comment.

"What, are you kidding? This young man's a man of steel. Look at him!" He again guided Clark with one hand on the wheel. "Make one more turn."

Martha frowned, one eye on the camera as she recorded the scene for posterity, still wondering what he was doing.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought I'd show our son the back forty," Jonathan replied. "After all, it's gonna be his one day." As he spoke he turned the tractor, then turned his head and smiled at the camera.

"Clark, wave 'bye to Mommy, son." He waved. "Bye bye."

With that, he guided the tractor toward the back forty acres of the farm, slowly disappearing off camera. Martha stopped taping, her gaze following them until they disappeared.


	14. Elmer Fudd to the Rescue

Jonathan wasn't sure how it started or why it started, but suddenly Clark seemed to be having nightmares. He would wake them up, screaming. It was almost always at two o'clock in the morning when the five-year-old should be deep in dreamland. Having pleasant dreams, not horrible ones.

After the fifth time, Clark began refusing to go to bed. Jonathan was at a loss to what to do, especially when his son would sit on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, a stubborn expression on his face.

He tried not to yell at his only child, but this was getting ridiculous, he thought. If Clark didn't go to bed he would be tired and cranky in the morning. He couldn't sleep with his parents. He might still be only little at five, but their bed wasn't exactly roomy.

Part of him wondered if Clark was perhaps dreaming about his flight through space, or the parents that had sent him to Earth. Jonathan still wondered what had caused the little boy's family to do such a thing. It was understandable that that abandonment would give a boy such nightmarish visions, but it was odd that it was only just now happening when he'd been living with them for three years.

Maybe it wasn't about that at all, he thought. Then again, he had no idea what else it could be.

He ran a hand through his blond hair, gazing at his wife over the head of his stubborn child.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Martha looked just as perplexed as him.

"Clark, sweetie, why don't you want to go to bed?"

"The monsters'll get me," he said.

"What monsters, baby?"

"The monsters under my bed."

Martha glanced at Jonathan, raising an eyebrow. Jonathan understood. Bill Ross had been talking about Pete and his own youngest son's bedtime routine. Pete had recently begun refusing to go to bed claiming there were monsters in his room.

"I know how to fix this," he murmured.

When he was a child, he remembered, he'd had nightmares. While he couldn't remember the visions, he did remember that his mother had provided a solution. She had had his dad make up a nightlight, putting it beside his bed to protect him from the dark.

"C'mon, son," he said, holding out his hand. "Come with me."

Clark bit his lip, as if considering the situation, then got up, taking his father's hand. When he realised Jonathan was taking him upstairs, he began crying.

"It's okay," Jonathan told him. "I promise everything will be okay."

He led his son to his bedroom, keeping the light on and sat him down on the bed. He sat next to him.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, Clark. See, those monsters under your bed, well, they're afraid of the light."

"Why?"

"Cause it hurts them."

"Like the gremlins?"

"What gremlins?"

"Like the ones in that movie. Pete showed it to me."

Well, that definitely explained a lot. At five, Clark, as smart as he was, wasn't savvy enough to separate fiction from reality, so there was a good chance he thought the gremlins were real. Jonathan nodded sombrely.

"Yep, exactly like those old gremlins. So, how about this? Tomorrow we'll get you your own nightlight so you can always have a light on in your room when it's time for you to go to sleep. And that way, the monsters can't come out. How about that?"

"Okay."

"Do you think you can sleep with the light on tonight?"

Clark nodded. "I can do that, Daddy."

Jonathan hugged him. "That's my boy. C'mon, let's get you in your pyjamas."

Martha laughed when he joined her a few minutes later.

"Gremlins?" she said. "We are going to have to talk to Bill about letting the boys watch such movies."

Jonathan shrugged. "Boys will be boys. I'm guessing Sam or one of the older boys showed it to them."

Next day, Jonathan took his son into Fordmans Department Store. While Martha browsed the fabric department, Jonathan led Clark to the electrical department. They were greeted at the counter by George Fordman. He grinned at them, then glanced at someone who must have been standing behind one of the racks.

"Whit? Don't disappear on me, okay?"

Jonathan looked around and smiled at the towheaded boy. Whitney was eight and while essentially was a good kid, tended to be a bit mischievous. It looked like he was spending the day helping his dad in the store.

"So what can I do for you folks?"

Jonathan placed a hand on his son's head.

"We're looking for nightlights. For Clark."

"So the monsters under my bed can't come and eat me," Clark said.

George winked at him.

"Well," he said, leaning on the counter so his face was almost at Clark's level, "I think I have just the thing."

He led the way to the nightlights. There were a few of them, from plain lights with characters painted on lampshades to various stands made to look like characters from cartoons or movie heroes.

"What do you think, Clark?" Jonathan asked.

Clark looked over them all, poking his tongue out slightly as he considered his choices. Then he pointed to one.

"That one," he said.

Jonathan grinned. Of course. Clark loved his Saturday morning cartoons, and Warner Bros were his favourites of all. George smiled and picked it up. The stand itself was shaped like the character with a frame made to look like the character was holding the bulb in his hand.

"Well, guess this is the one then."

They paid and Clark clutched the box to his chest. Martha rejoined them. She didn't seem to have bought anything.

"Hi boys. I see you got your nightlight, sweetie. Do you think Elmer's going to be a good bodyguard?"

Clark nodded. "Yep. He's just gonna shoot the monsters, like he does Bugs."

"Well, that's good then."

"See anything you like, sweetheart?" Jonathan asked his wife, kissing her on the cheek.

"Not here," she said. "At least one of us got something he needed."

"How about we have lunch in town," Jonathan suggested. "We can get Clark some hot chocolate. Would you like that son?"

"Yay!"

Holding hands, they left the store and walked down the street, Clark still happily clutching his Elmer Fudd nightlight.

That night, their little boy happily went to bed, secure in the knowledge that Elmer would indeed keep him safe from the monsters.

Martha laughed at the complete turnaround.

"Looks like that did the trick," she said. "How clever you are, Mr Kent."

Jonathan grinned at her.

"Except now I have a problem with monsters under my bed," he told her, winking.

She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hmm, what are we going to do about that?" she asked.

"Well, I have a few ideas," he murmured, kissing her softly.

"I bet you do," she replied, getting the idea. She let him go. "Last one up is a rotten egg."

Chuckling, Jonathan chased her up the stairs.


	15. Their Special Boy

To Martha and Jonathan, Clark was more than just a special child. It wasn't just the fact that he was literally from out of this world. He was their miracle. The child they had never thought they could have.

On Clark's first day at school, both his parents decided to accompany him. Martha had thought she would be the one who would find it hard to pull away and watch her little boy walk proudly into school carrying his very own lunchbox. But no, it was his dad who couldn't tear himself away. It was his dad who waited anxiously by the fence every day at home time those first few days, looking for the school bus. Since Clark lived on a farm, several miles from Smallville Elementary, there was only one way for him to get to school, and that was by bus. Unless one or both of his parents took him, and on a busy farm that just wasn't possible.

Clark had walked in to school that first day with his head high. When he saw his parents after school, he chattered non-stop about his teacher, Mrs Robbins and the pretty little girl who sat next to him. It took a while for Martha to realise he was talking about Lana Lang. She was even more amused to realise he had his first crush.

The school principal had asked why they hadn't entered Clark in kindergarten and all they could tell her was that they had been homeschooling Clark, but had realised he was better being around children his own age. Martha wanted to protect her son, but she didn't want to wrap him in cotton either.

They'd explained to him very carefully, in a way he could understand, how important it was that he never show his abilities. Martha often wondered if she'd given her son nightmares by telling him that if people found out about him that the authorities might very well take him away. She was careful not to say 'the police' since Ethan was often at the house, even in uniform, and it wouldn't do to have Clark afraid of Jonathan's old friend.

Martha would often bake cookies fresh so her boy would have some when he came home from school. The kitchen would be filled with the sweet aroma of the cookies. Jonathan had also taken to coming in to get cookies right around the same time the bus would pull up. Once Clark had eaten his cookies, Jonathan would take him outside to play a few games. Maybe a little football, or a little tag. Spending time with his son was so important at this age, Jonathan would say.  
Martha couldn't agree more.

"Hey sweetheart."

She looked up and smiled at her husband. He kissed her cheek then went to the refrigerator, grabbing the bottle of milk, tipping it up. Martha pretended to be outraged at her husband's cheek.

"Jonathan Kent! Use a glass!"

He responded with a sly grin, then pinched her backside for good measure. She picked up the towel and flicked it at him. Jonathan laughed and dodged, grabbing a wooden spoon from the dish rack and holding it up in the en garde position.

"Oh, that's how it is, huh?" she said, pretending the towel was her own weapon, aiming it at him.

"Gonna have to do better than that," Jonathan said, crowing.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh really? Cocky aren't we?"

"That's cause I always win," he returned.

"We'll see about that," she told him.

The sound of a beeping horn could be heard across the field, stopping them in the middle of their horseplay. Jonathan took advantage of her distraction and grabbed her around the waist.

"Gotcha!" he said, dipping her and planting a kiss on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping he would take the hint. He deepened the kiss, making a sound suspiciously like a soft growl.

"Mommy, Daddy!"

Great. Childus interruptus, Martha thought, wishing Clark had taken just a little bit longer. Although she could have sworn only about a minute had passed, rather than the four or five it usually took Clark to get from the bus to the porch.

Jonathan let her up.

"Hey Clark," he said. "How was school kiddo."

Martha turned, laying cool hands on her face, giving herself a few moments to collect herself before she set about giving Clark his usual glass of milk and placing cookies on a plate.

She watched as her son munched on his cookie, chattering to his dad about his day at school. Jonathan responded just as enthusiastically, eating his own cookies. Martha shook her head and smiled fondly at her two boys.

The cookies were gone and the glasses were emptied when Jonathan suggested taking Clark out to play tag. Martha took the plate and the glasses and rinsed them. She stood at the sink, daydreaming.

"Martha?"

She looked around, realising she had been standing there daydreaming for more than ten minutes. Jonathan shouted again and she went out, frowning.

"Jonathan?"

As she looked at her husband, she realised something was missing. Clark.

"Where's Clark?"

He looked at her helplessly. "I don't know," he said.

She stared at him. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

He shrugged, his face worried. "I mean, I don't know. Clark just suddenly started running and then he disappeared." He told her that their son had somehow been able to run faster than any normal person.

She continued to stare at him in disbelief. When Clark didn't appear after an hour, she knew something was terribly wrong. Jonathan had gone to the edge of their property to look for their son, but he'd come back saying there was no trace of him.

Worried that Clark had somehow fallen somewhere and hurt himself, Martha began calling all their friends. Jonathan, meanwhile, called Ethan.

Jonathan and Ethan went out to conduct a wider search, while Martha chose to stay at home in case Clark somehow found his way home.

She had no idea what to tell him if he did show up. She hadn't known he could run so fast and if she hadn't known then it was highly probable Clark didn't know either. Having peculiar strength was one thing, but this had to be frightening for him. Especially if he'd managed to get himself lost.

Martha wondered if it had something to do with him not being born on Earth. Then again, she had been hearing a few odd stories in town of people who had been acting strangely ever since the meteor shower.

It was several hours after dark before she heard the door open and an exhausted Jonathan came in, carrying their son. He put Clark down. Clark's face was dirty and streaked, as if he'd been crying. Seeing that, Martha couldn't help bursting into tears herself.

She ran to her son and scooped him up, still crying.

"Mommy?"

"I'm here baby." She let him go and held him by the shoulders, looking him over.

"Am I bad, Mommy?"

She glanced at Jonathan, who shook his head in confusion.

"What do you mean, sweetie?"

"I ran and got lost. I was scared Mommy."

"I know you were, baby. But it's okay. You're home now."

"I didn't mean to run so far away," Clark said in a small voice. "Daddy told me, Daddy said …"

Martha could only imagine what Jonathan had told him. The last thing she wanted to do was give her little boy a complex about his strange abilities, but the truth was, she was terrified that she would lose him because of those abilities. The only thing she could do, she thought, was reassure him.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

"No, baby. You are not bad. You're special. You're my special boy, Clark."


	16. Bully

The phone was ringing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the narrow hallway as Jonathan stepped inside.

"Martha?" he called out, then remembered she'd gone to a meeting for the bake sale being held that weekend. She'd volunteered to man a stall as well as bake a few of her famous muffins. He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Mr Kent?"

He frowned.

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Mrs Hennessey. I'm the principal at Smallville Elementary."

"Oh," he said, the name jogging his memory. He hadn't really liked the woman much when they'd met her, just before they'd enrolled Clark in school. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was far too early for Clark to be out of school and there were no parent-teacher meetings scheduled.

"I was wondering if you and your wife could come down to the school," the woman said.

"Why? What's going on?"

"I'd rather not discuss that over the phone."

That didn't sound good, he thought as he hung up. The screen door squeaked and he looked up. Martha frowned at him, seeing the phone in his hand.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Clark's principal."

Martha immediately looked worried. "Did she say …"

"She wants us to come down to the school. Soon as we can." He shook his head. "I'm sure it's nothing, sweetheart."

She still looked worried. Jonathan could understand that. Given Clark's differences, no matter how much they told him to keep it to himself, Jonathan often wondered if his son was just too young to realise the repercussions if someone were to discover what he could do.

The discovery that he could run faster than any normal adult male had been alarming to say the least. Not because they were afraid of his ability, but because he could so easily have gotten lost. Jonathan still had nightmares about searching Palmer Woods for days only to come across his son's still body. He thanked God that had never happened, but Clark had been terrified.

Jonathan recalled when he'd found Clark that he'd wrapped his arms around him and told him never to do that again. He had tried to keep from scaring his son, but the truth was, he'd been terrified himself, wondering what he was going to find.

The last thing he'd wanted was to give his little boy a complex about his strange abilities, but he had no idea how he was supposed to handle this. The strength was one thing, but he had hoped he'd managed to teach Clark how to hide that. The speed was something else. He knew he would have to keep his son out of school sports, but since physical education was a big part of his school life, Jonathan just didn't know how he was going to do that.

He still tried to think of possible scenarios as he drove the truck to the school. Martha was silent on the bench seat beside him, probably trying to guess what the meeting was about as much as he was.

When they stepped into the school's administration block, they saw Clark sitting with Pete on chairs outside the principal's office. The nurse's office was open across from them and what looked like a fourth grader was being treated by the nurse. He had a cut lip and she was holding a cloth to his face. She looked up and frowned at them but said nothing.

Jonathan was about to ask his son what was going on when the principal's door opened.

"Mr and Mrs Kent, please come in."

Jonathan was surprised to see Abby and Bill Ross in the office. Abby was a lawyer who seemed to be doing quite well for herself.

"Mrs Hennessey …"

"Please sit down," the woman responded. "I'm very sorry to have had to call you all here, but this is a very serious matter."

Jonathan glanced at Bill, then frowned at the principal.

"What is it?"

"Clark has been fighting."

"Fighting?" Abby asked.

"I'm afraid so. All I can get out of the boys is that an older boy was bullying Peter and using, well, dare I say it, racist remarks."

Jonathan listened in amazement. The older boy had begun pushing Pete around on the playground and Clark had jumped to his defence. In retaliation, the boy had begun shoving Clark, who had shoved back. Somehow, the boy had ended up falling through a door, breaking both the door and the hinges.

Martha and Abby stared at each other, the shock clear on their faces.

"How did that happen?"

The principal shrugged. "I have no idea. The janitor thinks perhaps it's termites, but it doesn't explain the broken hinges."

"Well, perhaps that's just metal fatigue," Jonathan replied, mentally crossing his fingers.

"I suppose."

"You're not punishing Clark, are you?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Well, this is a very serious matter, as I said. I can't just let Clark …"

"Let him what? Go unpunished? He was standing up for his friend. From what I understand from my sons, this boy has been bullying other children at the school and you've allowed him to get away with it. Frankly, Mrs Hennessey, I'm appalled that you have allowed this behaviour to continue right under your nose. Tell me, why are his parents not here?"

"Mrs Ross …"

"You are very lucky that my son has not been injured by this boy, or else this school would be facing a lawsuit," Abby said sternly. Bill was wisely staying silent, allowing his wife to handle the situation.

The principal spluttered, trying to say that it was Clark who was in the wrong.

"Well, I can't see how on Earth you would think Clark would be responsible for what happened to your door," Martha replied in a tone similar to Abby's. She was acting every inch the lawyer her father had once tried to force her to be. "It seems clear to me the boy just slipped and fell. Something I have no doubt would never have happened if he hadn't been bullying Pete."

The other woman bit her lip, clearly seeing she was outnumbered.

"Yes, of course," she replied. "This was just an unfortunate … accident."

Jonathan couldn't help thinking as they walked away from the school with Clark that they had dodged a bullet on this one. The worst part was, if Clark's abilities kept on growing, they might be dodging a few more in years to come.

Still, there was no point worrying over it right now. They would just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.


	17. Adopted

"Clark Kent, if you don't hurry up, you're going to miss the bus to school."

Martha waited a few moments, listening for the sound of footsteps as her son scrambled to get his things together. She heard various thumps and thuds, but still no little boy appearing on the stairs.

"Clark Jerome Kent! I'm not telling you again!"

Clark came running down the stairs, faster than any normal little boy should, from what Martha could tell, although he'd been told not to practice his super speed in the house.

"I don't want to go to school," he complained.

"You have to go," she said, looking at her seven-year-old. She stood at the bottom of the stairs with hands on her hips.

"But Mommy …"

"No, Clark."

"But if I go on the bus, I'm scared you won't be here when I come home."

She frowned at him. Clark had the strap of his red backpack slung over one shoulder. The pack was unzipped and gaping open, his Scooby-Doo lunchbox almost falling out. He was wearing his favourite red jacket and blue jeans, the edges of a blue flannel shirt peeking out from the bottom of his jacket.

"Honey, what are you talking about?"

Clark poked his tongue out a little as if he was considering the question.

"Well, Whitney told me that Lana's mommy and daddy didn't come back for her."

Martha wondered if there was more to the story than Clark was telling her. She had no idea how old he really was when he'd been sent rocketing into space. How did she know he didn't have some residual fears of abandonment?

She wanted to tell him that what had happened to Lana had been a completely different story, but she didn't want to make him worry.

She knelt down and held him gently.

"Sweetie, Mommy's not going anywhere. I promise, I will be right here when you come home from school."

"With cookies?" he asked hopefully.

She grinned. Clark loved her home-baked cookies.

"Of course," she said.

He wrapped his little arms around her.

"I love you Mommy."

She watched him run to the door and open it. He paused and looked at her for a moment, his bottom lip stuck out in what looked suspiciously like a pout.

"I promise," she repeated.

He nodded and left the house, running to catch the bus. Martha watched until the yellow school bus disappeared down the road, biting her lip.

She worked at her morning chores, but the incident bothered her. Wondering what to do, she decided to phone Nell. Since their neighbour had decided to take in her niece, the once strained relationship had changed. They would never be friends, but at least Nell was more civil.

"I don't know what to tell you, Martha."

"It just seems very sudden that he's reluctant to go to school."

"Well, like I said, I don't know what to tell you. I'm sorry. I have to get ready to go to the city."

Nell had been spending a lot of time in the city lately. Martha had been talking to her mother, who seemed to know all the gossip, and it seemed Nell had been talking to Lionel Luthor about some kind of business deal. It seemed odd for Nell to even have anything to do with the Metropolis billionaire, especially after having lost his wife Lillian a few months before.

Having got no answer out of Nell, Martha wanted to brush it off, but it still bothered her. She went out to join her husband, who was working in the barn. Since it was winter, farm chores were mostly indoors.

Jonathan was hammering in some rails guarding the stairs to the hayloft. He'd decided to turn it into a space for Clark to play in and later perhaps study in. It would give him some much needed privacy.

He stopped and looked at her.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"Clark didn't want to go to school."

He frowned. "That's weird. Clark loves school."

"He seemed afraid I wouldn't be there when he got home from school."

"And you can't figure out why?"

"He said something about Lana's parents not coming back for her, but I don't think that's it. I asked Nell if she knew anything but she couldn't shed any light on it either."

He stepped down and put his tools down.

"I guess we'll just have to ask him," he said.

They waited with hot cocoa when Clark came home. Jonathan sat him down at the table.

"I thought we should have a talk. Man to man."

Clark's eyes widened as he stared at his father. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, son," Jonathan said with a laugh. "You're not in trouble. Your mom's a little worried about you though. She said you didn't want to go to school today. Wanna talk about it?"

"Umm …"

"Hey, kiddo, it's okay to get scared about stuff. But if something's bothering you, then you should talk to us about it."

"Well, Whitney was talking about how Lana's mom and dad went away and didn't come back and Nell 'dopted her and then Lana said I was 'dopted too."

Jonathan nodded. They'd told Clark about his adoption, knowing the subject was likely to come up in school. Kids had a way of pointing out certain things, like the fact Clark didn't look like either of his parents. They had discussed it and told him at least the partial truth.

"So what happened to my real mom and dad?" Clark asked.

Jonathan hid the wince Clark had unwittingly caused. Martha found it a little hurtful when people in town would comment about Clark's 'real parents' as if the two of them were not his 'real' parents because Martha hadn't given birth to him.

"Clark, the truth is, we don't really know what happened to them. We just know that they loved you and wanted you to grow up with people who love you, the way your mom and I do."

"And you're not gonna go away and never come back?"

"Never ever," Jonathan promised, holding up his hand in a scout's salute. "Scout's honour."

Martha snorted. She'd been standing at the counter, listening.

"Jonathan, you were never a boy scout!"

"Dad, what do I say to people when they ask?"

"You can tell them the truth," Martha replied. "That your dad and I adopted you because we love you very much and we couldn't love you more if you were our natural child."

Clark got up and ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her. Jonathan didn't hear what he said but got the gist of it when Martha told him she loved him.

Jonathan took his son's hand.

"How about you come and help me in the barn, son?"

Clark frowned. He'd been told he was too little to use his dad's tools, but Jonathan figured this was one project they could finish together.

He led his son out to the barn and showed him the loft.

"Wow!" Clark's eyes lit up. "Can I play here?"

"Sure you can son. This will be your space so you can do anything you want."

Clark practically jumped into his arms, laughing. Jonathan hugged his son. Sometimes it was just the simple things, he thought.


End file.
